


Nights of the Round Table

by Smint100



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-04 21:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 54,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smint100/pseuds/Smint100
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lady Gwyar, King Arthur's half sister, takes on Seren as her maid, she recognises in her strong magical powers. In search of The Book of Shadows, they arrive at  King Arthur's Camelot where Seren meets the Knights of the Round Table . . . and finds out how they are involved in both her future and the future of magic . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story based loosely on some of the characters from BBC's Merlin and the original mythology.
> 
> Gwyar was named in some sources as Arthur's half sister. Gwaine I have linked more closely with the original mythology although left the spelling of his name as in the BBC show (mainly because I've just got used to typing it that way!)
> 
> This will end up as R-rated for content and some language.
> 
> Now complete!
> 
> I do hope you enjoy it - it's certainly been fun writing it! :)

‘Seren! Seren!’

Seren dropped her training sword at the sound of her mother’s voice and ran up the stairs, arriving flushed and breathless in the great hall of the castle. The party that she had seen arriving earlier was now assembled in front of her mother.

‘Seren, this is King Arthur’s sister, Lady Gwyar.’ Seren attempted a clumsy curtsey, looking up to see a strikingly beautiful woman with jet black hair and eyes as green as her mother’s seldom worn emeralds. ‘You will be Lady Gwyar’s maid while she is here.’

‘But-’

‘Take Lady Gwyar to the blue chamber. And do whatever she asks. She is the king’s sister.’

Seren led the way for Lady Gwyar.  King Uther’s daughter, although conceived some years after his wife had died, she was acknowledged as his bastard child. Not that anyone would call her that to her face. She was a few years older than Seren, although seemed more. Seren was already resenting the task assigned to her as it would take her away from the training yard, and she would have to wear a dress rather than her preferred britches.

Gwyar was looking at Seren curiously, probably wondering what she was to going to do with her as her so-called maid. She would undoubtedly be worse than useless, but she was all that was available who was of the correct, well, social standing.

‘You may unpack my clothes,’ she said, still appraising Seren as she hung her dresses, stroking out the travelling creases. They were the most beautiful creations Seren had ever seen. Embroidered, beautifully cut, the fabrics thick and expensive, all of them deep, rich colours.

‘Here, Seren, try this on. Perhaps you’ll look less like a boy.’ She handed her the plainest of the dresses and helped her into it, smiling as she struggled with the structure of it, more used to britches and shirts, or loose blouses and skirts.

Gwyar tightened it in as far as she could around her waist, but it was still a little baggy as her body was still that of a girl, not a woman like hers. She stood back and appraised her. ‘Better,’ she said. ‘Look.' And she did, staring at her reflection in the looking glass, transformed, her long dark hair curling onto her shoulders, her bright blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears as she looked so different.

‘You may keep it,’ she said.

‘But-‘

‘It is old, I kept it only for travelling, but I will be here for a while. I do not need it. Keep it.’

‘Thank you! Thank you, my lady.’

‘So you are Lancelot’s sister?’

‘Yes, my lady. But he is not here and I do not remember him. He was taken by the Lady of the Lake when he was but a child.’

Gwyar nodded. ‘I remember hearing that. He has not returned?’

Seren shook her head. ‘No. My mother has not forgotten. She sometimes rages, but my father is not a well man and can do nothing.’

‘There are great prophecies surrounding his return.’

‘There are?’

‘Yes, but not for many years. You need not concern yourself with them. Now check that trunk for any breakages.’

Seren opened the trunk to find a number of bottles all neatly labelled. ‘What are they, my lady?’

‘They are my healing potions, Seren. If you show an aptitude, you may learn how to mix them.’

 

Seren didn’t know whether it was Gwyar’s presence that triggered them, but that night the intense dreams she had occasionally had became more intense, more detailed. Now sharing Gwyar’s quarters, it was to find her soothing Seren as she woke in a sweat, screaming.

‘What did you see, my child?’

‘A . . . a dragon. A great dragon. In a dark cave. And you. Holding an orb aloft. It has magic in it.’

‘And could you see what I was doing with the orb?’

‘No, my lady. It was then that I woke.’

‘Have you had these . . . dreams for long?’

‘Only this summer.’

‘Since you started your monthly bleeds?’

Seren blushed. ‘Yes, my lady.’

She waited, sitting on the side of Seren’s bed, thinking. ‘Have . . . other things happened to you?’ Seren looked puzzled. ‘For instance, if you become angry, do you get stronger?’

Seren was immediately reminded of when she had been fighting with Aled and he had used the wooden training sword to whack her on the back of her hand. ‘Unfair!’ she cried out, but he just laughed at her. The next thing both of them knew, he was flat on his back on the ground, although she had not touched him. He swore afterwards he had stumbled, although she knew that was not true, but he was more wary of her following that incident.

Seren said nothing, but Gwyar covered her hand with her own. ‘You have the gift, child, and you have it very strongly. As do I.’ Seren looked up at her sharply, but she smiled. ‘Yes, I am sharing this with you as I see a great power in you, but we must keep this between ourselves. Is that understood?’ Seren nodded. ‘In return, I will train you, teach you how to harness and use your skills. And make you a very powerful sorceress.’


	2. Chapter 2

It was six years before Seren finally saw Camelot. She rode alongside Gwyar, still preferring to be on horseback compared with Gwyar’s litter, but her saddlebags were filled with herbs and dried plants for her potions and treatments. Gwyar had been strangely remote for the last month, until she announced that they were going to Camelot. She had been studying some ancient manuscripts that had come into her possession and Seren had delivered a letter to the messenger to take to Camelot. It was several days before a reply was received, but Gwyar was delighted with the contents. ‘We’re going to Camelot,’ she said. ‘Let us pack!’

She had brought some of her most beautiful gowns, but it was the sheaf of documents that she kept closest to her, studying them constantly, even on the three week long journey. She had not divulged what they were, and Seren knew better to ask, she had discovered that while Gwyar could be the warmest, most generous of women, she also had a temper.

In those six years Seren had learnt many things from Gwyar. Everything from basic medicinal treatments through to harnessing her growing magical powers that she hid from everyone except Gwyar. This was where she was happiest with Seren’s progress, seeing the powers inside her that she barely realised she had. She taught her how to control them, to cast spells so that her eyes glowed amber as the magic was released. At first it had been frightening and exhilarating in equal measure, even the most basic spells of moving objects made her feel incredibly powerful. Creating fire for the first time physically exhausted but mentally stimulated her, and Gwyar rewarded her with a set of her own scales as she nurtured her progress. When Seren mastered control over animals, albeit a worm, she gave her a travelling cloak, which she was currently wearing, and wrapped it warmly around her body as they headed towards Camelot.

Seren’s first glimpse of the castle was in the midday sunshine, the towers almost blindingly reflective against the blue of the sky. It was a cold, clear Autumn day, but the temperature was forgotten at the sight of such magnificence. It took the rest of the day to actually reach the city, then being allowed through the city gates but it still taking an age to actually arrive at the citadel.

It was well-guarded, but they were expected and taken straight to the king. Arthur was waiting for them, standing close to the famous round table, red cloak over chainmail, his wife, Guinevere, by his side. He was a handsome man, blonde, with noble features, broad shoulders and a confident stance. Guinevere stood demurely next to Arthur, hands clasped in front of her, watching them warily.

Arthur strode over to Gwyar and took her by the arms preventing her from curtseying to him, although Seren dropped into a deep curtsey, eyes lowered. ‘Sister. It has been too long.’

‘It has, my lord king. But . . .’

‘I am not my father,’ Arthur interrupted. ‘And you are welcome here. Guinevere, this is Gwyar.’

The two women appraised each other, but it was Gwyar who made the first move, smiled and stepped towards her sister-in-law. ‘Guinevere. So I finally meet you,’ and she took her hand and clasped it in her own. ‘And this is my maid, Seren,’ and Seren curtseyed to the queen who forced a smile to her lips for Seren’s benefit.

 

Settled in their quarters, Seren began to unpack, but it was late and she was exhausted.

‘Leave it, Seren. It can wait until the morning. Now, did you get a good look at the castle?’

‘Only a little, my lady. I was not anticipating it to be so large.’

‘Where do you think the dungeons might be?’

‘The dungeons? Why, I have no idea!’

‘No, of course not. But can you find out? It is easier for you to ask about them than it is I.’

‘I will do my best, my lady.’

‘Now let us sleep. We have much to do tomorrow.’

 

Breakfast the following morning was taken to their quarters by a tall, slim young man with dark hair and eyes as blue as Seren’s.

‘I’m Merlin,’ he introduced himself. ‘The king’s . . . well, punchbag mostly,’ he added with a grin. ‘Can I get you anything else?’

Seren looked at the platter of bread, meat, cheese and fruit, along with a jug of water and declared that it was fine. She smiled at him encouragingly. If she needed to find the dungeons for Gwyar, then he could be very useful. As he turned to go, she asked him if he could show her round the castle. ‘I have never been anywhere so grand as this, my lord.’

‘Merlin! Call me Merlin. I am no one’s lord. I should be free this afternoon.’

 

 ‘And these are the kitchens,’ Merlin said, as he concluded the tour. They were noisy, busy and hot.

‘Can we go outside?’ she asked, her cheeks already flushed.

Sitting on the steps in the courtyard, Merlin handed her an apple he had appropriated from the kitchens. She crunched into it and chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes. ‘How long have you worked for Arthur?’ she asked.

‘Too long,’ he answered with a laugh. ‘He still doesn’t appreciate me.’

‘I know THAT feeling,’ Seren replied. ‘So, you’ve shown me the main parts of the castle, but where are the exciting bits?’

‘Such as?’

‘Oooh, the dungeons, for instance?’

He glanced at her quickly, but she merely smiled back. He nodded over to the tower at the far corner of the courtyard. ‘Below there. But I’m hoping you will never see them, Seren, they are not pleasant.’

‘Is anyone in there at the moment?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. No, there can’t be otherwise there would be guards at the entrance. Why do you ask?’

‘Oh no reason. I . . . er . . . I used to play in ours at home. It’s where the dogs and cats used to live.’

‘Not used much then?’

‘It was a very safe place. Much like here.’

‘It was not always so quiet,’ Merlin remarked, ‘but it is peaceful now.’

 

Gwyar was pleased with Seren’s report. ‘We will search tonight,’ she said.

‘Search for what, my lady?’

She withdrew the papers from where she had hidden them amongst her belongings. ‘It is time for you to know. These documents tell of the hiding place of The Book of Shadows. This book that contains the greatest spell of all.’ She was looking at her with an intensity Seren had never seen in her before. ‘If I find this spell, then I can challenge Arthur for Camelot.’

Seren stared at her in complete disbelief. ‘No, my lady . . . no, you cannot!’

‘Seren, I can and I must. Arthur is no improvement on his father. Uther condemned magic and killed anyone who practised it. And Arthur has done little to change that. People with magic are still oppressed. If he knew what you or I could do, we would be thrown into the dungeons and remain there for the rest of our lives. Or worse. Is that what you want?’

‘No, but-’

‘So we must do this, Seren. We must free the magic. Will you support me?’

Quietly she nodded. Seren knew that she was right from what she’d heard about Arthur. If he knew the strength of magic possessed by either Gwyar or herself, she was sure those dungeons would have their first residents.

‘So what is in the dungeons?’ Seren asked.

‘The Book of Shadows. It’s been hidden for more than a hundred years. These papers say where it is, and the entrance is in Camelot’s dungeons. We go tonight. We have to find this before the Samhain full moon.’

‘But we have the feast tonight.’

‘I hope that everyone will sleep well after that.’

 

Gwyar was wearing her finest dress and even Seren, although officially Gwyar’s maid, was also a lady by birth and so was attending, and put on her one suitable dress, a cast-off of Gwyar’s as she decided it did not suit her colouring, but it had been tailored to fit Seren. And it fit her well, emphasising her full breasts, the slimness of her waist and the curve of her hips. She stood next to Gwyar and they looked at their reflections together in the glass.

‘My lady, you look divine,’ Seren said.

‘And that dress looks far better on you than it did on me,’ Gwyar replied, green eyes sparkling. ‘Come, let us go. They will be waiting for us.’

The knights were waiting near the round table as they entered the room and nearly all fell silent immediately. Except two who had their backs to the door and were still laughing and joking. Seren’s eyes scanned them. They were all fine men, fit, honed and courageous enough to be deemed one of Arthur’s knights. Most were in their twenties, but there were some a little older. They bowed as the two women approached, one of the talking knights realising what the others were doing and, smiling, took his friend by the shoulder to turn him towards the ladies. It was then that Seren’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes caught hers as he bowed low, his dark hair falling forward but the grin not obscured.

As they heard a noise behind them, the two ladies turned to greet Arthur and Guinevere, curtseying to them.

‘I suppose I should introduce you to my knights,’ Arthur said. ‘Although I doubt you will be able to go far in Camelot without tripping over at least one of them. My sister, Lady Gwyar, and the Lady Seren,’ and he proceeded to name the knights until he reached the end of the row, ‘and finally, Percival and Gwaine.’ Percival was the tallest knight, and handsome, but it was Gwaine’s scurrilous grin and twinkling eyes that had attracted her, and by the way he returned her gaze, he was not repelled by her.

Seated between two of the older knights at dinner, she could not help but be drawn to where Gwaine was sitting. Occasionally he caught her eye and she looked away blushing, embarrassed to have been seen staring at him. There were minstrels playing in the gallery and Seren began to hum along with one of the familiar tunes.

‘You sing, my lady?’ Sir Kai asked her.

‘Usually to the horses and dogs, my lord,’ she replied, smiling.

‘Well, if you do not scare them, you must be able to hold a note. Perhaps we will hear you one day.’

‘Lady Seren has a beautiful voice,’ Gwyar added.

‘In that case, she must sing for us.’

‘As you wish, my lord.’

 

After the meal when they had left the formality of the table, Arthur bowed to Guinevere and led her into the centre of the hall to lead the dancing. Seren hung back in the shadows, although continued to watch them as they performed the intricate steps.

‘I’m about as likely to manage that dance as a donkey is to embroider a cushion,’ said a voice beside her, making her jump.

‘Oh! You startled me,’ she said, turning to look into a pair of sparkling brown eyes.

He bowed. ‘Gwaine at your service, my lady. And anything else.’ He winked at her.

‘You are not a dancer then, my lord?’

‘Gwaine, please. I am not your lord, I am your servant,’ and he raised her hand to his lips, all the while looking at her through his shaggy fringe. She could feel the touch of his lips and the tickle of his short beard on her hand. ‘Now, you could bestow upon me the honour of a dance, but we will make sure we do not follow any of the conventions. We shall be free spirits on the dance floor,’ and without even waiting for her acquiescence, he led her into the hall.

Seren had never danced so badly or laughed so much as she did with Gwaine that evening. His roguish smile captivated her, he was not so bad on his feet as he had declared, but he was obviously easily bored with repeating the more traditional steps and encouraged her to more and more outrageous moves, much to the amusement of the other knights and Arthur and Guinevere. It was only Gwyar that was looking on without amusement. She had declined all offers to join in the dancing, preferring to stay seated. Seren didn’t realise she had incurred Gwyar’s displeasure until they returned to their rooms.

‘Seren, you need to be more careful,’ she admonished.

‘Careful, my lady?’

‘You are promised to the Goddess. You should not allow your own feelings to interfere with what the Goddess has planned for you.’

Seren took a deep breath. Gwyar was right. She was the vessel of the Goddess, but she had never met anyone like Gwaine before.

‘I am sorry, my lady,’ she apologised.

‘Ne’er mind, you are young and Gwaine is a handsome man. Now, we have important work to do tonight, help me change.’ 


	3. Chapter 3

It was fortunate that it was cloudy as the near-full moon would have illuminated the courtyard. Even so, they kept to the shadows, both of them dressed in britches and soft boots. Once into the tower, Gwyar cupped her hands, her eyes flashed amber, and fire erupted in her palms. She transferred this to one of the torches and lit the descending spiral staircase. At the bottom, well below the level of ground floor, the corridor split into three. One corridor led back under the courtyard, and the other two ran under the walls that surrounded the courtyard.

Gwyar checked the documents in her hand and confidently turned right under the rear wall of the castle. There were cells on either side of the corridor, empty, but Seren shivered as she passed as she could clearly see the chains, the plain low bench and where the residents had scratched on the wall. She kept close to Gwyar who slowed at the end of the corridor and began to examine the end wall. Seren could see nothing, just rock, but Gwyar eventually located what she was looking for. Taking a step back, she began to circle the torch around a central point and began an incantation. Three times she circled in one direction, then three in the other, and then she pushed at the central point. Nothing.

She tried again, the circling, the incantation, but again, nothing. Then a third time. Again, nothing. She sighed heavily. ‘Seren, you try. The words are written here.’

Seren read them through first, struggling with some of the ancient writing, until she was confident she could recite them. She mentally prepared, breathing heavily, sinking into herself, and then took the torch from Gwyar. She showed her the central stone which, on closer inspection, contained a shining focal point. Seren circled the torch while chanting the words, one way, then the other, and then there was a growling noise and a crack appeared in the stones, zig-zagging down the wall, widening, the stones seeming to crush into each other until there was a gap wide enough for both of them.

‘Well done, Seren,’ she whispered. ‘Beautifully done.’

Seren followed her into the opening. The path was clear, but the stones not hewn so flatly as the main corridor. It began to slope even further down and the two women walked more closely together, not knowing what to expect or when this path had last been trod. Gradually the passageway began to open wider and soon the two women could walk side by side, the roof lifting away from them. Seren kicked a stone and it clattered down the passageway, echoing. The sound of the stone must have disturbed something as there was a sudden rushing noise, as though wind was blowing, and then they could both feel it.

Gwyar and Seren pushed themselves back against the wall of the corridor as a wave of rushing air passed them. They paused, searching for each other’s hands in the darkness as the torch was extinguished. But the wind passed and, with no further sign of disturbance, Gwyar re-lit the torch. They progressed down the passageway until it opened out into an enormous cavern, a large lake in its base. There was no obvious sign as to what had caused the wind, so they progressed along the narrow path at the edge of the cavern, the water some distance below them.

Suddenly there was another rushing sound and the torch was extinguished once more in the wind that blew over them. They stood in the darkness, both shaking with fear, and then a small flame appeared in the distance, increasing in size until they could see its source. A dragon so large that Seren cried out in fear had landed on a rocky promontory directly opposite them. It snorted once, blowing flames towards them, lighting them on the path where they stood. He then proceeded to light some of the torches in the cavern by spitting puffs of flame at them.

When he spoke, it wasn’t English, but Seren was curiously able to understand it.

‘Ladies. What a pleasure,’ and he bowed.

‘Great dragon,’ Gwyar replied, her voice trembling with fear. ‘We did not know you resided here.’

‘Normally I do not. I am a free dragon now. But I wanted to meet you. I have a message for you.’

‘For . . . for me?’ Gwyar asked.

‘For you both. Lady Gwyar, you have found a worthy pupil in the Lady Seren. Yet she still has much to learn, as do you, Lady Gwyar. I know what you are searching for.’

‘It is here?’

‘It has not been moved, but you should know its power.’

‘I do, great dragon.’

‘You may call me Kilgharrah.’

Gwyar bowed her head, acknowledging the importance of the dragon revealing its name. ‘Thank you, Kilgharrah, last of the great dragons. I understand the power of the spell that’s hidden here. I believe it is time to use it.’

‘For your benefit?’

‘For Camelot’s.’

‘You will need assistance.’

‘I have Seren.’

‘You will need Seren. You know she is more powerful than you.’

‘She is untrained,’ Gwyar retorted sharply.

‘She is still more powerful, Gwyar. You should appreciate that she has more natural talent than you and is stronger than you.’

‘She is untried.’

Kilgharrah snorted derisively. ‘Seren, step forward.’ Seren took a pace forward into the light. Kilgharrah looked her up and down. ‘You, child, have a spark in you that I have seen in only one other in these recent days. You will be tested and you will have a difficult decision to make.  The most difficult of your life.’

‘Will I make the right one?’

‘That I do not know. That is your destiny, Lady Seren.’

‘You will help us find the book?’ Gwyar asked.

‘If you are meant to find it, you will,’ Kilgharrah said obliquely. ‘You have come further than most. Now I must go,’ and he took to the air with a flapping and whooshing of wings that extinguished all the torches in the cavern. Gwyar relit her own and they stood and stared at each either in silence, both of them trying to take in what Kilgharrah had just told them.

‘We must find this book,’ Gwyar eventually said, and they continued along the ledge until they came to a widening of the path with a central pillar. Gwyar consulted her papers again and then handed them to Seren. ‘I can’t do this. You must.’

Seren read the documents, realising the importance of what she was doing. She walked round the pillar three times in one direction and three times the other mirroring the opening of the wall, and then recited the incantation. Nothing happened for a few moments and Seren was beginning to think that she’d not done it right, but then an opening appeared in the pillar. She reached in to the shallow fissure and removed an ancient book which she immediately handed to Gwyar.

‘Thank you.’

 

The next week was spent studying the book. It was not straightforward, they could barely read the ancient letters, let alone understand the meaning. There were verses, pictures and instructions, but Gwyar was left to study them alone as the king of neighbouring lands and his entourage were visiting Camelot, and Seren was needed to assist the maids to the ladies.

It was late one night when Seren returned to her rooms to find Gwyar waiting impatiently. ‘I’ve done it.’

‘You understand it? All of it?’

‘Not all of it, but enough to know what we need to do. Sit down and I’ll tell you.’

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

‘So what you’re telling me is that I have to seduce twelve of the knights, one at each full moon, for the next twelve months?’ Gwyar nodded. ‘And that there can be no other man during that time?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And that I will be able to ensnare or entrap them somehow, they will make love to me and some . . . essence will be . . . produced that I capture?’

‘Yes, Seren.’

‘And they will not remember?’

‘That is right.’

‘No.’

‘No? But-’

‘This is not right, Gwyar. This is bad magic. I will not do it.’

‘Seren, this is strong magic, old magic, ancient magic from the Triple Goddess.’

‘But why me? Why not you?’

‘Because the dragon was right. Your power is stronger than mine. And it will require all your skill.’

‘I can’t do it, Gwyar.’

‘You can and you must. You have seen what Arthur has done for people with magic. He would kill us if he knew we had it and had used it.’

‘But how will this spell help us?’

‘It will make us equal with Arthur. Make him take us seriously. Treat us with respect, not fear. You must do this, Seren. For all our sakes.’

’And I do this by seducing his knights?’

‘They will not remember, but they will be there to support us at the end. They will be on our side when we confront Arthur. He will see then how important it is to accept magic.’

‘And if I did, which knights would I have to . . . do I get to chose?’ Her memory thrust Gwaine’s face immediately to her mind.

Gwyar shook her head. ‘The drych will tell us.’

‘Tell us when?’

‘On the day of the full moon,’ Gwyar said quietly, knowing it would not be received well.

‘That is simply ridiculous,’ and Seren turned and walked away.

 

She found herself in the courtyard and saw Merlin crossing it.

‘Are you busy?’ she asked, catching up with him.

‘Just doing some chores for Arthur . . . as usual,’ he replied with a grin.

‘Anything I can help with?’

‘Always, Seren. Wanting a break from her ladyship?’

‘For the moment,’ and they smiled at each other.

 

They sat in companionable silence for a while, cleaning Arthur’s dress armour.

‘What’s it like working for the king?’ Seren asked.

‘Oh, you know . . .’ Seren cocked an eyebrow. ‘Well, it’s . . . usually fine.’

‘Only usually?’

‘He doesn’t always appreciate what I do for him.’

‘Such as?’

Merlin paused, eyeing Seren cautiously. ‘How long have you served Gwyar?’

‘Six years now.’

‘How does she treat you?’

‘Very well . . . usually.’ They laughed. ‘Merlin, does . . . does the king ever ask you to do things you don’t think are right?’

‘It’s generally the other way round,’ he answered with a grin, but then looked more serious. ‘Why, has Lady Gwyar . . .?’

Seren looked carefully at Merlin, but decided she did not know him well enough to trust him.  Yet. ‘No, nothing, nothing . . . Hand me that plate.’

As he passed it over, she found it was heavier than she was expecting and it slipped from her fingers, aiming directly at her foot. But before it hit her, Merlin’s eyes flashed amber and it suspended mid air until he grabbed it again.

‘Merlin? Merlin, you have magic?’

‘No, no, you must be mistaken. I just . . . I just caught it.’

‘But I saw-’

‘No Seren, you saw nothing. You can’t have. Arthur doesn’t allow magic to be used in the kingdom.’

She mulled over Merlin’s words later. This was exactly what Gwyar was talking about, the inability of Arthur to accept magic. Even good magic, magic that would help him rule, reunite him with the ancient religion. Maybe Gwyar was right. No, Gwyar was definitely right. She went in search of her mistress and found her re-reading the book in her room.

‘My lady, I have changed my mind. What do we have to do?’

‘You are sure, Seren?’

‘I have no choice. If the king found out that we had used our . . . special skills, we would be put to death. That is not right. But . . .’

‘Yes, Seren?’

‘But I am unskilled in the ways of . . . of love.’

‘And that is why you are chosen to fulfil this magic. You have to be . . . a maid. But there is something I can do.’

‘There is? What, my lady?’

‘Do you . . . do you ever touch yourself?’

Seren started to blush furiously. ‘I . . . oh . . . I . . . sometimes, at night . . .’

‘And does that feel good?’ Seren nodded. ‘Do you . . . imagine you are with someone?’ Seren nodded again. ‘Man or woman?’

‘I . . . I don’t really know. It’s more, just . . . someone else.’

‘So you wouldn’t be averse to being with another woman?’

‘I suppose not. Not if . . . not if I could trust them.’

‘Someone like me?’ Gwyar suggested. Seren took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Tonight then. We will eat and then bathe, and then I will teach you the delights of your own body.’


	5. Chapter 5

Seren could barely eat anything, she was so nervous. She arranged for the kitchen staff to fill the bath and Gwyar added some perfumed oil to the hot water.

‘Come here,’ she said, smiling at the nervous Seren. Slowly, gently, with soft, tender fingers, she moved to behind Seren and untied the lacing at her waist. As she slipped the dress from her shoulders, she began to kiss Seren’s neck. She felt her tense at first, but as she continued with the softest of touches from her lips, she felt the tension began to dissipate. She started to stroke across her shoulders and felt Seren stretch up her neck, enjoying the attention. Carefully, Gwyar stroked down her arms, pushing down the sleeves so that her dress slipped to the floor. With long slow strokes, she ran her fingers up and down Seren’s back, down the sides of her body to the curve of her waist, and then following the line of her spine up to her neck, whispering soft words of encouragement.

She circled round Seren, taking in her maid’s naked body for the first time and very rapidly concluded that seducing any of the knights would not be a problem, she was perfect. Full high breasts that just demanded to be touched. Rosy-tipped nipples to delight the tongue. The curve of her waist onto smooth hips, the inviting shadow . . .

She took Seren’s hand and led her to the bath. The perfumed oil and crystals Gwyar had added had turned the water milky and Seren slid into its anonymity as Gwyar joined her, slipping in behind her so that Seren leaned back into the comfort of her arms. Gwyar began to stroke her shoulders again, and the gradually her hands slid over her stomach and crept up to her breasts. As she started to fondle them, fingers splayed, cupping them, catching the nipples between her fingers, Seren sighed deeply.

‘You are enjoying this?’ Gwyar asked.

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘Call me Gwyar. I want to hear you say my name.’

‘Yes . . . Gwyar.’

‘Tell me. Tell me what you are feeling.’

‘Your hands are so soft, so gentle. I feel something inside me stirring while you touch me. I want you to touch me more. Harder.’ Gwyar responded, squeezing her breasts, moulding them together, lifting them and the focusing on the nipples, tweaking them so they stood proud and Seren moaned.

Instinctively she turned to face Gwyar and began to kiss her, tentatively at first, but then harder, lips pressed against each other as Seren knelt in front of her in the warm water and placed her hands on the side of Gwyar’s face to steady them both.

Seren began to lose herself under Gwyar’s ministrations, the way her lips were sometimes soft and pliant, then becoming firmer, pressing harder, and then Gwyar slipped her tongue into Seren’s mouth. Seren paused for a moment, then parted her lips wider to accept it, her emotions suddenly freefalling as Gwyar’s tongue explored within her. They simply kissed, stroking gentle fingers over each other’s skin, exploring and caressing until the water began to chill.

Gwyar wrapped both Seren and herself in a warm blanket and led her to rug near the fire. They lay side by side, and Gwyar continued to stroke Seren’s body.

‘You’re beautiful,’ she whispered. ‘The Goddess has endowed you with so many gifts. She has chosen you for this special task. She has chosen you to take this on. Only you, with your perfect body, so innocent yet so made for lust and love, only you could perform this. She has saved you for this.’

Gwyar’s words both soothed and excited Seren. Her body was responding to Gwyar’s words and touch and she began to touch Gwyar in reply, drawing fingers over Gwyar’s breasts. Gwyar leaned into to lick Seren’s nipple with the tip of her tongue. It hardened under the pressure, and she began to suck it, Seren automatically arching her back up to meet Gwyar, wanting to feel more. Gwyar responded, sucking harder until Seren moaned, her body writhing, encouraging Gwyar to be firmer with her mouth, her hand reaching up to squeeze the other breast, plucking at the nipple, until she swapped her mouth and hand.

Seren was absorbing it all, her body undulating under Gwyar’s assault on her senses. Gwyar’s mouth alternated between Seren’s breasts, halting at her mouth in between to keep the tension building. Involuntarily, Seren parted her legs, alerting Gwyar to her readiness for the next stage. Gwyar smiled as she kissed down over Seren’s stomach and through her downy hair as Seren tensed slightly. But Gwyar knew she was ready as she moved down her body and knelt between Seren’s thighs.

The first touch of Gwyar’s tongue on Seren’s bud sent Seren into an ecstasy she had never before experienced. She bucked against Gwyar, desperate to push herself against her. Gwyar steadied her by holding Seren’s hips while she lapped at her femininity, sending Seren’s emotions rushing through her body in an ecstatic wave that had her gasping and panting.

Smiling to herself, Gwyar exchanged her mouth for her fingers as she kissed up Seren’s body, over her stomach and breasts, and back to Seren’s mouth, the taste of her still on her lips. Gwyar’s fingers were stroking over her bud and then deeper into her, drawing forward her sweet juices, lubricating her touch.

‘This is what it feels like to be aroused, sweet one. This is what a good lover will do for you, Seren.’

Seren was beyond speech as Gwyar slid her fingers in and out of her, slowly at first, but then faster and faster, Seren releasing gasps of pleasure with every one of Gwyar’s movements. As Gwyar’s movements came to a crescendo, a wave of ecstasy flooded through Seren so decisively that her whole body shuddered with lust and she released a feral moan so long and low that Gwyar laughed in response.

They lay before the fire until Gwyar persuaded Seren to the bed.

‘How did that feel, my darling.’

‘That was . . . amazing. I’ve never felt . . . oh . . . so much. But a man . . .?’

‘A man is unlikely to be as gentle, but you must make sure YOU are ready for HIM. Tell him what you want, if not with your words, then with your body, your hands, your touch. Teach them.’

‘But will it hurt?’

‘Maybe the first time. But make him take his time. It is something very precious he will taking from you. Make him be worthy of it. Of you.’

‘But what if I don’t . . .’

‘The Goddess has chosen this task for you. She will be kind to you. Trust her.’

 

They spent the few weeks making love every night, Gwyar showing Seren how to explore her own body and what a man would like. As the full moon of Samhain approached, Seren became more excited but also equally apprehensive. Part of her was hoping that the spell wouldn’t work, that the drych would reveal no names, but part of her was also maddeningly excited by it.

The king was hosting a feast for Samhain and Seren had been asked to sing. Gwyar had been consulting the ancient book again, to make sure that the spell would work. They could not afford to get this wrong. She had learned more of the spell, although did not understand it all yet. But the seduction part was clear, although Seren was expected to collect the essence of the knight that would be released at the point of the knight’s, well, release. Gwyar and Seren both studied the book, but could not understand what it meant, nor the significance of a necklace that was shown.

The book claimed that the men would forget about the seduction until released entirely from the spell.

‘That is good,’ Gwyar commented.

‘It is?’ Seren was rather hoping that she would be unforgettable.

‘You would then have to explain why any relationship could not continue. And there would be the problems with the other knights. You know how competitive they are.’

‘That is true.’ She looked out over the training area to see them fighting. It was not unusual for them to turn up in Gaius’s infirmary requiring treatment for some wound or other obtained during a particularly competitive session. She had already treated many of them for cuts and bruises and admired their bodies, finely honed and fight-trained.

 

Seren was awake well before dawn on the day of Samhain, pacing the room starting at the drych, the shallow basin of granite that was polished and smooth, filled with fresh spring water. At the sun’s first rays, and Gwyar sprinkled the mix of herbs and leaves onto the surface as instructed by the Book of Shadows. They stood holding hands, waiting for something to happen, willing it to happen. Seren was about to speak when the bowl began to glow, the herbs and leaves dissipated to the edge of the bowl and silvery letters began to form across the surface of the water . . . 


	6. Chapter 6

The letters formed the name Geraint.

‘Geraint?’ Seren asked. ‘That is who I must . . .?’

Gwyar squeezed her hand firmly. ‘That is what the drych tells us.’

‘But Geraint is an old man!’

‘Geraint is not yet forty. He seems older as his wife died so young and saddened him. He will be good for your first, Seren. He will be kind and gentle.’

‘But how do I . . .?’

‘That I cannot help you with, Seren. That is your destiny to arrange.’

 

Seren had been given a new gown by Gwyar. It was so fitted that Seren could barely breathe when Gwyar first fastened it. Laughing, Seren had to ask Gwyar to loosen it a little as she was struggling to breathe, let alone sing.

When Seren sang, everyone listened. Her clear, pure voice needed no accompaniment, although she occasionally sang with a lute or harp. Her mind kept reverting to the thought of seducing Geraint and she remembered what Gwyar had told her, widowed too young. As she strolled the room, she paused near where he was sitting. He looked so sad and, on closer inspection, not as old as she had thought, it was the sorrow that had lined his face, his dark eyes sad, his brown hair flecked with grey at the temples.

She started a new song, one about love and loss, holding the high notes so that they sang straight to Geraint’s heart. She saw him take a deep breath, not daring to look at her but then couldn’t help himself. His eyes met hers and she saw the grief highlighted in them. She wanted to reach out to him, to stroke away the pain.

Finishing the song, and curtseying to the round of applause, she saw Geraint push back his chair and leave the room. She waited a few minutes, took a gulp of the strong wine, then another, and followed him out onto the castle wall.

‘Sir Geraint?’ she tentatively asked, placing a hand on his arm.

‘Lady Seren. You sang beautifully.’

‘Thank you, sir. It is a gift from the Goddess.’

‘Be careful who you say that to, my lady. The old religion is not so popular here.’

‘You were raised with it?’

‘Raised, yes. But my priority is the king now. I am his knight to the death.’

‘You have seen too much of that, my lord.’

‘Yes.’ There was a pause as he looked thoughtfully over the castle wall. ‘She was the love of my life.’

‘You are too young to be alone, Sir Geraint.’

‘I will never marry again.’

‘You . . . you do not need to marry to take comfort from a woman, my lord.’ She took a step closer to him. ‘I am sure you would be a fine and generous lover, Sir. Kind and gentle.’

He sniffed a laugh. ‘Old and creaking, you mean.’

‘No, my lord! Experienced and considerate.’

‘That’s very sweet of you, child,’ and as he turned towards her, their eyes locked and Seren felt a sudden surge of power within her. As she saw his pupils dilate with lust, she knew that this would work, that she would be his. She reached up her hands to his face and touched his cheeks, and then drew herself up onto tiptoe to kiss him. His lips were smooth and warm, unresponsive at first, but then he started to kiss her back as though she had unleashed a damn in him.

‘My lord, we should not stay here,’ she whispered.

‘My quarters?’ and she nodded her agreement.

He held her hand as they climbed the spiral staircase of the tower. His room was sparse but there was a comfortable bed and a fire in the hearth. They stood in its warmth, kissing, becoming familiar with each other, Seren slowing him down if he tried to move too fast. She felt him smile through their kissing and he started to stroke her hair, running his fingers through the soft strands, twisting them. Eventually she broke away from him, her eyes searching his for understanding.

‘My lord, I have not . . .’

‘You are still a maid?’ Seren nodded. ‘Oh my sacred stones. But . . .?’

‘But what, my lord?’

‘You . . . you would give your most precious gift to me? But why?’

‘My lord, I am tasked with healing your sadness.’

‘Tasked? By whom?’

‘By the Goddess. You . . . you are a believer, are you not, my lord?’ He swallowed hard, but nodded. ‘Fear not, we are just doing what the Goddess has instructed me to do. Come,’ and she led him towards the bed. He watched her, a slight smile on his face. She sat on the bed and patted the place next to her. Instead, he stood in front of her and tilted her chin up towards him.

‘You are certain of this?’

‘My lord, I am, as you say, still a maid. I am promised to the Goddess, but she wishes me to know the physical love of a man. And the Goddess has chosen you to be that man.’

‘The Goddess honours me more than I deserve. As do you, Lady Seren.’

Seren stood and smiled up at him. ‘It is I that is honoured, my lord.’ Tenderly she stroked across his face and then ran her fingertips over his lips, causing him to smile. He seemed suddenly younger, the years melting from him as she caressed the contours of his face. And then she reached up to kiss him again, melting into his warmth as she leaned against him. He wrapped his arms protectively around her as he kissed her back, at first softly, but then more firmly, his fingers twisting into her hair, holding her closer to him so that her breasts were pressed against his chest. She felt safe, trusting that the Goddess had chosen this man for a reason. She relaxed into his arms, grateful that he was taking this so slowly but felt she needed to encourage him to the next stage. She took a step back from him and turned.

‘Sir, I must beg your assistance with . . .’ and she indicated the lacing on her dress.

His fingers stroked down her back to her waist and he slowly unknotted the lacing and loosened the fastening. The dress began to slip from her shoulders and she crossed her arms across her chest and turned back towards him. She wanted to see his face when she let it slide from her. As she released it, she took delight in watching his eyes travel over her body as it was revealed. She saw him swallow as her breasts were exposed, the material caressing her curves as it drifted to the floor, revealing her naked form.

She looked up at him, seeking his approval, wanting him to desire her. She was not disappointed when he released a deep groan and pulled her hard against him. She could feel his own hardness pressing against her. This was where it was going to be so different from the nights she had spent with Gwyar.

Seren began to undo the ties of his jacket and removed it. This was followed by his linen shirt. His torso was lean and hard and she stroked her fingers across his chest, revelling in the firmness, the chest hair wiry against her fingers. She felt soft and feminine in comparison to his ruggedness as she tugged at his belt, releasing his britches. Smiling, he sat on the bed and removed his boots, his britches following them.

He pulled Seren down next to him, pushing her back until she lay back on the bed and moved next to her.

‘You are so beautiful, Seren. So perfect,’ he whispered. He stroked soft fingertips from her neck to her breasts, tracing their outline over her nipples, and then he leaned over and began to suck one. The scratch of his bearded chin against her breast was in total contrast so Gwyar’s softness and excited her more than she thought possible. He was being so incredibly gentle with. Gwyar had been right. The Goddess had been right.

He cupped her other breast with his hand as he sucked at her nipple, then swapped mouth and hand. She could feel the roughness of his chin contrasting with the softness of his hair as it swept across her skin. His hand moved down across her stomach to between her legs. She parted them to allow him access to her femininity and he strafed his thumb across her bud shooting bolts of lightning through her body so that she cried out.

‘Did I hurt you, my love?’ he asked, his voice cracking with concern.

‘No, no, it just felt so . . . oh!’

He grinned and did it again and she wriggled against him, wanting to feel the intensity of the feeling again. He didn’t disappoint her, slowly dragging his thumb over the bud, his nail gently catching her so that she shuddered and gasped with strength of her reaction to the slightest of movements.

‘Oh Seren, you are so beautiful,’ he whispered. ‘So soft, so warm, so perfect.’

She squirmed under his touch, her moans indicating how much she was enjoying his ministrations. He began to slide further back, delving into her warm wetness, his fingers thicker than Gwyar’s, rougher, more demanding of her, plunging into her, his thumb rubbing hard against her bud, stimulating her so that she suddenly cried out as emotions flooded through her, her body bucking against his fingers.

‘Oh my lord, oh my lord,’ she repeated.  

‘Are you ready for me?’ he whispered, moving on top of her. ‘You want this?’

She clung to him, holding him tight against her as she felt him move between her thighs, then the first wonderful push of him into her. She widened her legs to take him, panting with anticipation as he entered her oh so slowly and wonderfully. She could feel the pressure, then a slight stab of pain, and then the feel of him deep inside her. This was unbelievable, feeling him within her, then the slow withdrawing, Geraint being so careful not to hurt her. The slow movement of him within her was totally novel and she held her breath as he moved back into her.

‘Seren, Seren, my love, are you enjoying this?’

‘Oh Sir Geraint, oh, that is so . . . oh, don’t stop!’

He moved slowly within her, so deep she both tensed and gasped with every movement, but smiling in between such was the wonderful intensity of the motion. Geraint was watching her face, taking his weight on his forearms, smiling at her clear enjoyment, reacting to her own reaction, increasing his pace as she urged him on by squeezing him with her thighs, but slowing if he saw he was causing her any pain. He was a skilled lover, but kept his movements basic, gently easing into her, relaxing her, igniting emotions within her.

Seren began to release tiny moans, urging him faster and deeper into her. Geraint transferred his weight onto his left forearm, angling himself slightly so that he penetrated her deeper. Her response told him how much she was enjoying it and she raised her hips up to force him deeper. He reacted to that, pausing at her entrance to tease her before thrusting harder and deeper into her, sending her into a frenzy of emotion. And then he finally lost control and dropped back onto both forearms, thrusting harder and faster, increasing the pace, now focusing less of Seren and more on his own needs, although he whispered her name as he reached his crescendo.

As he released himself inside her at the exact point all her emotions exploded, a little puff of black smoke was released in his sigh. Instinctively Seren reached up and clasped it in her hand. She felt it condense, cooling against her skin, and she clutched it tight in her hand. Geraint was holding her close, breathing deeply against her neck, his face close to hers.

‘Oh my darling, darling Seren,’ he whispered. ‘Thank you. You are so perfect and have been so generous. I cannot believe you allowed me to be your first. I am the luckiest man alive, I swear.’

‘Oh Sir Geraint, thank you for being so gentle with me. Be happy now. For me,’ and in the light of the fire he smiled his pleasure, and as their eyes met Geraint was withdrawing from her, both physically and emotionally.

She didn’t at first realise what was happening. He rose from the bed, picked up his clothes from the floor and threw them over the back of a chair which he pulled up to the fire and sat on. Quietly she called his name, but he didn’t answer. She walked over to him and stroked across his back but he did not respond. He did not know she was there. Already, as the spell said, he had forgotten her.

Quickly she picked up her clothes and dressed, slipping the condensed object into the pocket of her dress. Returning to her room it was to find Gwyar waiting for her.

‘Seren?’ she asked. Seren did not speak, but burst into tears with Gwyar immediately comforting her. ‘What happened? What’s wrong? Did he . . . did he hurt you?’

Seren shook her head. ‘No, he was so kind. So kind, but yet so sad. So very sad,’ and she started sobbing once more. Gwyar led her to her bed, undressed her and snuggled up next to her, holding her and soothing her until, her face still wet with tears, she slept.

Next morning she remembered the object and retrieved it from her pocket. It had formed a small round bead, almost like a pearl, but was dark misty grey with a red splash. She showed it to Gwyar who examined it.

‘This must be a bead from the necklace in the book. Look.’ She showed Seren the page which showed a necklace made up of twelve beads. Twelve beads. Twelve knights. ‘I will arrange for the jeweller to create this,’ Gwyar said. ‘We can add to it every month, if you get one of these every time.’

Seren took the bead and sat on the window seat looking out over the courtyard. She examined it closely. Grey for his sadness, red for the taking of my maidenhead, she thought. She could see some of the knights gathering below. Geraint was not with them but shortly joined them. Her heart leapt when she saw him, remembering how passionate yet kind and gentle he had been. He looked less sombre this morning, and greeted his companions with a smile.

‘Someone’s happy,’ Gwaine joked. ‘What was her name?’

Seren’s heart skipped a beat, but Geraint, to her relief, refused to be drawn, denying all. Gwaine glanced up to her window and smiled up at her, waving. She returned both the smile and the wave. He really was most extraordinarily handsome. Soon after, the king arrived and they followed him out through the archway, Geraint bringing up the rear.

She saw him again later that evening at dinner. He greeted her warmly, his face relaxed and smiling, but he gave no hint of recognition that there had been anything between them. The book was right. He would forget all. She felt a mixture of relief and sadness. Relief that her duty was done, she had collected the first bead, had lost her virginity to someone incredibly kind, and had experienced the most wonderful emotions. But also sad that he remembered nothing of the experience, although his sorrow seemed to have dissipated and he was visibly more relaxed than of late.


	7. Chapter 7

 

The name Elyan formed in the drych and Seren frowned. When she asked about him, she was told her was out hunting with the king, which at least meant she had the day free. She went down to the cellars to seek out Gaius and Merlin, but neither of them were there, and, although cold, it really was too nice a day to be inside. After changing into britches and picking up her warm riding cloak she went down to the stables and found her pony, Fallon.

‘Come on girl,’ she said, and Fallon plodded out of the stables.

She walked along the river for a while, then turned into the forest, choosing a wide path which still allowed the sunlight to filter through. She started to sing, rehearsing a new song, enjoying the accompaniment of the few birds still around. Suddenly she stopped and turned on Fallon, thinking she heard a noise behind her, but could see nothing. A little further on, she stopped again, thinking she heard another noise, but could still see nothing.

She urged Fallon on a little faster, hoping it wasn’t some creature looking for a quick meal of her. She headed off down a narrower path, trotting now, until there was a crash behind her and she forced Fallon into a gallop. As she headed down the path she could see a shadow across the path in front of her and turned towards its source. It was a tower, cream stone, gleaming in the sunshine. A tower with a single stone staircase curving round its outside.

And then the growling was much closer, a rustling and panting from the bushes as though some creature was about to strike. Seren jumped from her horse and smacked her so she ran like lightning though the forest, much more fleet without a rider. Seren took the steps two at a time, slowing only when she neared the top, gasping for breath. She paused, listening. There was a low growling noise as something circled the tower, but at least Fallon was safe, she thought.

She finished the climb to the top of the tower, pushed open the door and entered the single room at the top. It was bare except for a bed in the centre, not dirty, but looking not recently used. She crossed the room to the single window and gazed out of it. It was quite a view over the forest, but at that moment she was more intent on trying to identify what it was that was growling and rustling in the bushes below, but whatever it was, was staying hidden.

She lifted her head to look out over the tree tops. It really was a most beautiful vista. In the far distance she could see the towers of Camelot and realised she had ridden further than she had first thought, probably lost in her song. She leaned on her forearms on the windowsill and scanned the horizon. To the right was Camelot, to the left were open plains beyond the edge of the forest, and beyond that, the mountains. There were occasional spirals of smoke rising where the forest dwellers lived, but nothing close. She looked back to Camelot. She could see the flags flying from the turrets and spotted her and Gwyar’s quarters. Which made her wonder why she had never seen this tower from her own window.

Blood running cold, she ran back to the door. Except there was no door. The inside walls of the tower were smooth and completely devoid of any exit. She was trapped. She sat on the bed while she decided what to do next. What she wasn’t sure about was whether this was part of the Goddess’s plan for tonight’s seduction, in which case, she should expect Sir Elyan to arrive to rescue her, or whether there was some dark magic trying to prevent that happening. Or whether the magic was nothing to do with the old spell at all and she really was trapped.

She went back to where she thought the door had been and started some simple incantations. Nothing. She gathered some twigs together that had blown in and lit them, adding power to the spells. Still nothing. She tried everything she knew, but even her strongest spell only managed to singe the base of the wall.

She went back over to the window to think. The sun was dropping in the sky and it would be dusk soon. Either Sir Elyan would be arriving soon or she would have to escape without magic. Without magic.

She looked back at the bed. The bed that was made up with sheets. She dragged them off the bed and started to tie them together, testing the knots, and tied the end to the bed, tossing the length of sheets out of the window. But even when she dragged the bed over to the window, the sheets barely reached halfway down the tower. She would break her neck if she were to drop from that height, and there was no guarantee that any magic she tried to use would break her fall.

She pulled the sheets back up and tried to tear them in half, but simply did not have the strength. Magic just would not work on them. She would simply have to drop and hope she survived. She let them out of the window again, tugged on them firmly and climbed over the windowsill. Wrapping the sheet around her arm to slow her descent, she started to lower herself down the tower. She was part way down when she heard a shout from the distance.

‘Lady Seren! Lady Seren!’

No! It was Elyan. Why had she not waited? And then there was an ominous tearing sound above her, the sheet started to rip and she found herself hurtling towards the ground. She landed on her back, winded, as Elyan arrived swiftly beside her. She was breathing but could only shake her head in reply when he asked her if she was hurt.

And then she heard the rustling and growling again. Elyan looked up, saw something lurking in the bushes to their side, and swiftly lifted her into his arms and strode quickly up the steps at the side of the tower to safety. She tried to stop him, to warn him, but could not speak. He pushed open the door at the top and then kicked it shut behind them before placing her gently on the bed.

She groaned, struggling to look beyond Elyan to where they had just entered the room. The door had gone. She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes, waiting for the pain of the fall to recede and for Elyan to understand what he’d just done. And then she realised that this was probably the Goddess’s hand at work, although she would rather the Goddess had used her hand to break her fall.

When she opened her eyes again and tried to speak, she saw Elyan trying to work out what had happened to the door. He was shaking his head, but when he heard her move, he turned to face her.

‘There’s no way out, is there?’ She shook her head. ‘You were escaping from this, weren’t you?’ This time she nodded. ‘How could I have been so stupid?’

‘You . . .’ she cleared her throat again. ‘You’re not stupid.’

‘But you’d just escaped from this place and I brought you straight back in. Stupid, stupid, stupid.’ He sat forlornly on the bed next to her. ‘Guinevere was right.’

‘About what?’

‘I don’t think before I act.’

‘Elyan, this was not your fault.’

‘It was completely my fault.’

She sat up next to him and patted him on the shoulder. ‘If I’d landed on the ground and couldn’t get up, then the whatever it is that’s prowling down there could have eaten me. You saved me, Elyan.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know so. Do you think I’d rather be lying on the ground being attacked by animals or in here safely with you?’

‘Or safely back in Camelot with a knight who can’t even rescue a damsel in distress right? Gwaine would never have done this.’

‘Gwaine isn’t here. It’s you who found me.’ She paused. ‘How did you find me?’

‘We found your pony.’

‘Fallon? Is she here?’

‘No, Arthur and Percival took her back to Camelot where they were sure you would have gone, but I decided to retrace Fallon’s tracks just to make sure.’

‘And you found me. Thank you, sir knight.’

‘You thank me for trapping you in a tower, my lady? You are more than generous. I don’t suppose you have another plan to get us out of here, do you?’


	8. Chapter 8

He took off his cloak and chainmail. The sun was almost below the horizon and the night creatures of the forest were starting to wake. There was a distinct rustling in the bushes, and then a blood-curdling howl.

‘I am not sure I want to leave this place in the dark anyway,’ she replied. ‘I don’t suppose you have anything to eat or drink, do you?’

‘Yes!’ There was a pause. ‘On my horse.’

‘Oh.’ Seren went over to the window and whistled loudly. There was a pause and then Elyan’s horse appeared from out of the trees. ‘Now . . . we need a hook,’ and she looked round the room.

It was Elyan who spotted the filigree on the bed and wrestled with it to remove a curled ending. In the meantime, Seren was now able to tear strips from the part of the sheet that had remained in the room and fashioned a thin rope. She took the curling metalwork from Elyan and attached the sheet rope.

Elyan’s horse was waiting patiently underneath the window as Seren carefully lowered down the makeshift rope. She had to lean out a fair way. ‘Elyan, can you hold me?’ she asked.

He took a firm grip on her hips as she swung the rope closer to the saddlebags. She just needed to . . . It took a while before the hook caught under the loop of the saddlebag and she managed to lift it free of the horse. She raised it slowly, Elyan offering to help but she kept him holding onto her as she lifted it over the window ledge.

‘Dinner is served,’ she said.

There wasn’t much, but there was water and bread with some cheese wrapped in herbs. Nothing had tasted more delicious to Seren.

Once they had eaten, she turned her mind towards the seduction. She could not complain that she did not have his full attention, but to seduce him would require subtlety, it was only the second time she had done this, and Elyan was a true knight. She may not even be able to entrance him at all.

She leaned back against the headboard of the bed next to him. ‘So, tell me about you and Guinevere.’

He sighed. ‘Not much to tell. She was the best sister a boy could have. Especially after our mother . . .’

She took hold of his hand and squeezed it. ‘You are close?’

‘Well, she has Arthur now.’

‘And you have . . .?’ He shrugged. ‘No one special? I am surprised. A fine man like you.’

‘You think that of me?’

‘Yes! Yes, of course. You are one of Arthur’s finest knights. He would be lost without you. And your sister is very proud of you.’

‘You say the kindest things, Lady Seren.’

‘I merely tell the truth, sir knight.’

‘It is good to hear it. Especially from you.’

‘From me? Why me?’

‘You are a beautiful and intelligent woman.’

‘Now who’s saying the kindest things?’

He laughed and that seemed to be the trigger. She looked up at him, lifting her chin, presenting her lips to him in the rapidly fading light. His skin was glowing dusky and smooth, like the ebony comb she owned. He responded, his pupils dilated and then he was returning the kiss, softly, gently. Sliding his hand behind her neck and pulling her against him, she melted into him, feeling small and vulnerable against his bulk. He laid her back onto the bed, not stopping kissing her, his emotions now released.

Very slowly, his hand crept down over her shoulder and onto her breast. She lifted herself up to him, encouraging him. He stroked across her and she responded, pushing herself against him. His hand moved lower, over her stomach and then back upwards over her tunic. She could feel herself responding to his touch, his strong fingers on her as he stroked over her, and then his fingers slid down, back over her stomach and over her britches.

He was stroking her through her clothing, arousing her with long slow strokes of his fingers, strong on her, yet gentle, using the texture of her clothes to stimulate her. He was all knight and they had all night, so Seren allowed him to explore her, letting him take his time in discovering her. Very slowly, with every upward stroke, he moved her tunic slightly higher, until the skin of her stomach was exposed and he gently caressed her skin. He lowered his lips to her exposed skin and fluttered butterfly-light kisses over it. The effect was amazing, the skin of her stomach as sensitive as that of her lips as he kissed her.

She had seen Elyan fight, quick, strong and rough on the training ground, but now he was just opposite, slow, gentle and delicate as his lips and now tongue explored her. His fingers made tiny circles on her skin as he kissed her, very slowly moving upwards, exposing more of her skin as he headed up towards the curve of her breast. Her breathing was increasing in anticipation of his touch, but he moved so slowly up her body that she was almost panting when he finally reached the curve of her breast.

He paused, and then licked along the crease, her nipples already responding without them having been touched directly. She was tempted to use her own fingers, but decided instead to run her fingers through the curls of his hair and then stroking down his neck and onto his shoulder. She stroked up and down his neck as his nails started to drag over her skin and he kissed up to and on to her nipple. He wound his tongue around it and it sprang up to meet him as he licked over its peak. It was so focused, so intense, that her fingers automatically contracted onto his skin, gripping his shoulder tightly. This appeared to urge him on and he started to tease the nipple more firmly. Seren released a sigh as his lips eventually closed around it and he began to suck, the warmth of his mouth contrasting with the cold tingling on her skin where his lips had previously trailed.

‘Elyan, oh Elyan,’ she muttered, and he tugged on her nipple, releasing it as he leaned up to kiss her on the lips, at first softly, then harder.

‘Seren,’ he whispered between kisses. ‘Oh my lady, you are so beautiful,’ and then he kissed her again, slowly upping the pace, his fingers roaming over her body, only her stomach and one breast actually exposed. Very slowly, he eased up her tunic to expose her other breast and began to circle the nipple with his finger tip, tapping it slightly so that it rose in response, begging for the attention of his lips. He did not disappoint, gently lapping it with his tongue and then tugging it with his lips until it was erect, swirling his tongue around it interspersed with firm pulls until shocks ran from her nipple directly to her groin.

She longed for the touch of his fingers inside her, her groin aching for him. Very slowly, he slid his hand down to the top of her britches then over them to the heat between her legs, rubbing her through the fabric. Her hips automatically began to undulate, pushing against his stroking fingers. She wanted him, wanting to bond her pale skin against his own darkness, but at that moment was relishing in his touch. She reached out and began to stroke over his body, down over his hips, and then felt the heat in his own trousers, his hardness hot through the material. This triggered him into upping the pace and his kissing and touching became more frantic, more focused, more intense.

He pushed at her britches and she pulled them down, kicking off her boots and wriggling out of her tunic. He removed his own, his boots clattering on the floor in his haste to undress. And then he was lying next to her again, their bodies entwining, black on white, dark on light, as he kissed and fondled and stroked her. His fingers returned to between her legs, this time with nothing between his skin and hers, and she opened up to him, undulating against him. He was bulky but gentle, careful not to hurt her, allowing her to set the pace.

She was stretching and twisting on the bed, encouraging him to explore her body. His strong fingers stroked over her skin, frequently sliding into her warm wetness and then trailing it over her body, following it with kisses that were both relaxing and arousing. She slid cool fingers over his smooth skin, then down to the curling coarse hair that surrounded his erection.

There was no hurry, they were going nowhere and no one could disturb them. They continued to explore each other’s bodies until she turned onto her side facing away from him and he snuggled up behind her. And then she found his hardness probing at her and she lifted her leg, guiding him into her with her fingers. She was so wet and willing that it was only the size of him that prevented him sliding immediately into her. He was bigger than Geraint, but he eased himself slowly into her and she absorbed his length, focusing on the feelings he was igniting within her. He began to ease in and out of her, gently resting a hand on her hip to keep her close against him.

She bent forward slightly from the waist, just changing the angle of his entry a little so that he awakened as yet untouched nerves within her. She could feel him so incredibly deep within her, responding to his slow languid rhythm until he began to increase his pace. She pushed back against him and he held her closer, hands on her breasts, pulling her against him so that she was forced to fully absorb him. She was captive in his arms, but there was nowhere else she wanted to be at that moment. She felt so secure there, safe from the rest of the world. And then the pulsing increased, harder and deeper and she gasped with pleasure and the pressure of him. She wanted the increase now, wanted the ache as he pushed further into her, wanted to feel him harder and faster and deeper and she moaned and gasped as his pace increased.

‘Elyan, oh Elyan ’ she sighed. ‘Oh yes. Oh deeper. Oh yes,’ and her responded to her, holding her even tighter, forcing himself even deeper into her until she was gasping, unable to speak, completely surrendered to him. He nudged her thigh higher with his own leg, turning his body slightly so that he was plunging even deeper in her, thrusting hard and fast now, driving hard into her, Seren’s body totally compliant, absorbing him, her body so relaxed that she could barely form the moans that emanated from her lips. Now he was thrusting so hard, grunting deeply with every push, taking her, possessing her totally, filling her so deeply she thought she would never recover from this assault on her body and on her senses. It was relentless, her body filled by him, her senses overwhelmed by the nearness of him, her body totally attuned to his as he bucked and thrust into her, rough and hard, but careful not to hurt her. She felt at one with him, pure animal lust driving him on and into her, under the protection of the Goddess and at one with nature.

As the flood of emotions washed over her, she felt the long, hard final pulses of him until he released himself into her with a lingering groan. She looked out for the cloud and reached out languid fingers for it. It condensed in her fingers and she clasped it to her as she slept, Elyan still within her.

 

The morning light through the tower window woke Seren first. She hurriedly dressed and then drew the blankets on the bed over Elyan’s body. The door had reappeared and she hurried down the staircase and began to walk in the direction of the castle. She had progressed a fair way when she heard the sound of a horse and rider behind her.

‘Lady Seren! Thank the gods you are safe!’

‘Sir Elyan! You have been searching for me?’

‘Yes, since yesterday. But I seem to have spent the night in a tower although I do not remember finding it, or . . .’ He shook his head in puzzlement. ‘But let us get you back to Camelot, my lady.’

He dismounted and then helped her onto his large stocky horse. ‘I can walk alongside,’ he said.

‘Or we can get there today if we ride together,’ she said, and he looked up at her and smiled.

As they entered the courtyard, Seren slipped down off Elyan’s horse. ‘Thank you for recuing me, my lord.’

‘I shall tell the king you are safely returned,’ he said, and urged his horse towards the stables.

 

‘Seren! You are back,’ Gwyar said, rushing to hug her as Seren closed the door to their chambers behind her. ‘How . . . how are you?’

Seren nodded. ‘I am well.’

‘You have the . . .?’

Gwyar held out her hand and Seren dropped the bead into it. Jet black and smooth.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

While Gwyar continued to research the Book of Shadows, Seren spent more of her time with Gaius and Merlin. She was becoming adept at creating healing potions, carefully following the lists of ingredients, and then helping Gaius treat some of the patients, being of particular help to the ladies of the castle.

With both Merlin and Seren to assist him, Gaius had set up a small treatment room below the laboratory, with anyone arriving alerting them by ringing a bell. It was Gaius who noticed that they were getting far more frequent visits from certain knights, namely Percival, Leon, Gwaine and his brothers Gaheris and Gareth, , but only when Seren was there to treat them. Cuts and bruises which would not even have been noticed before suddenly verged on life-threatening, if the knights were to be believed.

Seren just smiled, treating them as best she could and then sending them away with a kiss on the cheek or a ruffle of the hair as soon as they made an approach that in any way was inappropriate. They normally didn’t get to stay very long.

It was late one evening when the bell rang, and continued to ring.

‘Merlin, see if it’s those damned knights again,’ Gaius muttered.

Merlin leaned out of the window to be greeted by shouts and familiar voices. ‘It is, but at least one of them appears to be hurt.’

Gaius tutted, in the middle of a delicate measurement.

‘I’ll go,’ said Seren.

‘Merlin, you go with her. For protection, if nothing else,’ Gaius added.

Merlin opened the door and the five knights struggled into the room, all of them trying to enter at the same time and consequently getting stuck in the doorway. As they burst in, Gareth and Leon were trying to support Percival, not easily done, with Gaheris limping in behind them.

‘Who’s first?’ Seren asked.

‘Me!’ four of them said in unison.

Only Percival didn’t speak, so Seren approached him. He had a lump growing on his forehead that was already the size of a duck’s egg. ‘Put him here,’ she said, indicating the strongest chair in the room, impressed that Gareth, the shortest of the group, was holding up his side.

‘Have you been to the tavern?’ Merlin asked, rather unnecessarily given the smell.

‘We drank mead,’ Leon said, also unnecessarily.

‘We drank LOTS of mead,’ Gwaine added, taking a seat on a stool. ‘More mead than I’ve ever drunk before,’ and he waved his arms expansively, nearly wiping all the vessels off the table.

‘We know,’ Gareth said.

‘Yes, but I can hold my drink.’ Gwaine retorted, grinning at Seren. ‘You know, you get more beautiful every day.’

‘And every night through a haze of mead, I’m sure,’ Merlin said. ‘What happened in the tavern?’

‘They got into a fight,’ Gareth said.

‘Who did?’

‘Percival and Gwaine.’

‘What?’ Merlin looked between the two of them. ‘But you’re best friends. And HE,’ and he nodded at Percival,’ is built like a stable. Which makes YOU,’ and he nodded at Gwaine, ‘an idiot.’

‘I am an idiot in love,’ he said, grinning, and reaching out for Seren, but overbalancing, sliding off the stool and ending up sprawled on the floor, laughing.

‘What did they fight about?’ Merlin asked Gareth, who seemed marginally more sober than the rest of the group. Leon was swaying like a sapling in a strong wind, smiling beatifically, his hair even more mussy than usual, but even he was sporting an increasingly blackening eye.

‘Guess,’ he said drily, as Seren started to tend to a still-silent Percival’s forehead.

‘I said . . .’ began Gwaine, trying and failing to rise from the floor. ‘I said that the Lady Seren would marry me.’

‘But she’s promised to the Goddess,’ Merlin said, frowning down at him.

‘That’s what Percival said.’

‘So . . .?’

‘And then he said that she wouldn’t marry me anyway because I was . . . what was it?’

‘Stupid, arrogant, idiotic and immature,’ Gareth said.

‘I mean, me, immature?’ Gwaine said, rolling over onto his stomach and then up onto all fours, pausing and swaying like a toddler learning to stand.

‘Percival said all that?’ Merlin asked, surprised.

‘A word between every punch Gwaine threw,’ Gareth said. ‘Or tried to. It was spread out over quite a long time.’

‘Did one of them connect?’ Merlin asked, glancing over at where Seren was still dabbing Percival’s forehead, her other hand resting on it to cool it.

‘No. That was a chair leg,’ Gareth said, frowning to remember. ‘It got a bit out of hand when Gwaine missed for the fourth time, span round and whacked Leon in the face.’

‘That explains Leon’s black eye,’ said Merlin. ‘And Percival’s head?’

‘Leon knocked over a table when Gwaine hit him, and the people whose drinks he spilled got a bit annoyed.’

‘And Gaheris’s leg?’

‘Gwaine kicked him.’

‘That was an accident!’ Gwaine protested, grabbing hold of Merlin and using him to drag himself up from the floor and back onto the stool.

Merlin sighed very heavily. ‘You, do not move,’ he said sternly to Gwaine. ‘Gaheris, let me see your leg.’

‘But I want Seren to look at it,’ pouting and looking more like Gwaine than ever.

‘LADY Seren,’ Gwaine corrected, waving his hand towards Gaheris as though to slap him and almost falling off the stool again.

‘Sit there,’ Merlin said to Gaheris and he sulkily took a chair. ‘Seren, how’s Percival?’

‘I think he’ll be fine after some rest, but someone should stay with him.’

‘You?’ Percival said, speaking for the first time, looking up at her hopefully.

‘No, not me, Percival,’ Seren said sweetly. ‘Perhaps one of the kitchen boys.’

‘Oh.’ He looked crestfallen.

Now that Seren wasn’t going to be looking at his injury, Gaheris’s leg made a miraculous recovery. Seren gave Leon a poultice to put on his eye, and then asked, ‘Anyone else need any treatment?’

‘Only for my broken heart,’ Gwaine said, dramatically clutching his chest.

Seren tutted, brushed a lock of hair out of the way, kissed him on his forehead and left Merlin to shoo them out.

Although Seren said nothing, Arthur got to hear about the knights’ escapade and sent them off on various missions around the country. The weather took a sudden turn for the worse, the wind howling round the castle, Seren was caught in a vicious rain storm and succumbed to a particularly unpleasant fever. She spent some time studying books loaned to her by Gaius, although she kept them well hidden in her chambers, and was beginning to understand the strength of her powers, but was too scared to use them. She was only just regaining her voice, with Gaius keeping her supplied with hot drinks of honey and herbs which were certainly helping, the patient rather than the carer, for once.

She was sitting by the fire in her own quarters, curled up in a blanket, when Merlin arrived with a drink for her.

‘Still working?’ she asked.

‘Just finished,’ he sighed.

‘Stay a while.’

He pulled up a chair to near the fire and stretched out his long slim legs. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Better for this,’ she said, sipping at the hot drink. ‘Thank you. I thought I was never going to sing again.’

‘We can’t have that. At least, Sir Kai would never forgive me.’

‘Sir Kai?’

‘He has been asking about you. He has missed your singing.’

‘He has a fine voice himself.’ She coughed and groaned. ‘I don’t think I will ever be able to sing again.’

Merlin laughed at her unsympathetically. ‘You will be fine in a few days,’ he said.

‘I am so bored of this. I just want to be well and to sing again.’

‘Not help Gaius and me?’

‘That too,’ she smiled.

‘Gaius is very fond of you, Seren.’

‘He has taught me a great deal. As have you.’

‘I have?’

‘Mostly how not to do things.’ He grinned at her, sliding down the chair slightly, waving his feet at the warmth of the fire. The flames highlighted his fine features, shadowed cheeks, but laughing eyes and full lips. Not conventionally handsome, but an interesting face, she thought, watching him. ‘Tell me about your village,’ she said.

‘Ealdor? There’s not much to tell. It’s . . . a village. A bit different from where you grew up, you must feel at home here.’

‘It’s . . . a castle.’

He laughed. ‘But you’ve been with Gwyar a long time.’

‘Six years.’

‘Is that where you learnt your medicinal skills?’

She nodded, starting to cough again.

‘I shall not make you talk further, but I shall tell Sir Kai that you are on the mend.’ He got up and stretched. ‘I suppose I must see if the king has any further tasks for me.’

‘Thank you for the drink. Good night, Merlin.’

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Sleep well,’ he said as he left.

 

The following day Seren felt well enough to venture down to the main hall. The first knight she saw was Sir Kai who looked delighted to see her.

‘Lady Seren!’ he said, bowing low. ‘How are you feeling?’ He was a broad-shouldered man with flowing dark hair, only a little taller than herself but handsome and strong of arm, and with a rich deep voice.

‘Much better thank you, my lord,’ although the sentence ended in a fit of coughing.

He frowned at her. ‘Merlin has been looking after you?’

‘Yes my lord.’

‘I was hoping you would be able to sing for me on my naming day celebration.’

‘When is that?’

‘In a week’s time.’

The night of the full moon. Seren could sense the hand of the Goddess in this. ‘My lord, would you sing with me?’

‘If my lady would allow me.’

‘You have a very fine voice, my lord. It would be a privilege,’ and she curtseyed. ‘I will find you tomorrow evening to see if we can agree some songs.’

They spent the next few evenings choosing songs and practising them as much as Seren’s voice would allow, although every day she was making progress and she felt confident she would be ready for the night of the full moon if Sir Kai were to be that month’s knight. For warmth, they sometimes practised in the great hall, Kai holding Seren’s rib cage firmly and telling her to produce the sound from deeper in her body. The first few times resulted in a coughing fit, but she began to understand his methods and the quality and tone of her notes improved under his guidance.

It was no real surprise when Kai’s name was revealed in the drych, although Seren was still unsure as to how she would seduce him. She was hoping the Goddess would assist as she had with Geraint and Elyan.

That evening she was escorted up to the balcony curtained off from the minstrels. She stood with Sir Kai behind the balustrades hung with heraldic tapestries. They were introduced to Arthur, Guinevere and the knights and guests for their first song, a duet which warmed up both their voices and which was heartily applauded. After a short break while the minstrels played, Seren and Kai prepared for their next song. It was a love duet, Seren’s soprano contrasting with Kai’s rich baritone. He stood opposite her, singing to her, and she responded, their voices overlapping and melding, swapping and then joining together. As she looked at him, she saw his pupils dilate and she knew he was hers. He moved to stand behind her and while they were still singing, gradually beginning to draw up her dress from the back until his fingers touched the bare skin of her thigh.

No one in the main hall or the curtained-off minstrels could see anything, but it was all Seren could do not to falter as she sang through her solo while his fingers caressed her bare skin. As he began his own solo, his fingers were firm against her skin, stroking up her thighs then over her bottom, kneading the flesh, his fingers sliding to between her legs as he continued to sing, moving rhythmically into her, finding her warmth and wetness in the silken folds.

Seren was grateful that she was not singing as at first his thumb entered her and began to move within her, stroking backwards and forwards, catching the sensitive nerves, only to be replaced by the length of his fingers, his movements matching his singing, firmer as he moved up the scale to the higher notes, gentler as the tones lowered until their voices rang out together for the finale and his fingers plunged deep inside her.

As they bowed together to the applause, she felt Kai’s fingers wiggling inside her, causing her to lurch against the balustrade. Slowly he withdrew from her and took a step back before she did, and then pulled her gently onto his lap.

‘Oh my lady,’ he whispered. ‘Your voice is so magical tonight. You have bewitched me.’

Seren adjusted her dress, drawing it up over her hips in anticipation of Kai’s advance, wanting him to finish what he had now started. She read him correctly as she felt him fumble with his own britches and then his manhood springing against her skin, hard and hot. He raised her hips slightly and then lowered her onto him feeling him deliciously enter her. She was so aware that the minstrels were only the other side of the curtain and could pass through at any time. She widened her legs under her skirt and angled her body forward to take him deeper, draping her skirts over the sides in the hope that it would disguise what they were doing. This seduction was far more straightforward than Elyan except . . . except they were due to sing as soon as this section of music finished and Kai was still inside her.

She forced herself to stand, leaving him seated, and started her part of the duet. Until he stood behind her and, while she was still singing she felt Kai relift her skirts and then slide back into her. She leaned forward on the balustrades, performing for the assembled people in the hall while Kai performed behind her. When it was Kai’s turn to take up the tune, she could feel his singing vibrate through his body, through all parts of his body. She stayed leaning forward as he very slowly gyrated his body against her, singing lustily behind her, his hands holding onto her hips. She was sure no one could see what they were doing from the main room, but she was having to grip the rail across the top of the balustrade as Sir Kai began to move more firmly into her.

She widened her legs slightly, balancing herself as she took up the song from Sir Kai. Standing behind her, moving into her, she felt a frisson of excitement that no one else knew that Sir Kai was actually inside her. He moved closer against her, his hands tightening on her waist as he started to thrust more deeply into her. She braced herself and then started to push back at him, upping the pace as the song began to speed up until his voice joined hers again and they finished the duet triumphantly.

As she bowed to the main hall, Kai pushed the full length of him into her, causing her to gasp. She wriggled back against him, and then pushed him back towards the chair where she settled herself on him. She could hear the musicians further along the balcony behind the curtain talking quietly and was very aware of quite how close they were, but Kai was focused only on her as he rhythmically bucked into her, squeezing her breasts, and she felt her orgasm beginning to uncurl inside her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the curtain swish open and she quickly slid Sir Kai’s hands from her breasts onto her ribcage as though performing a breathing exercise and squeezed her thighs together to freeze him into stillness. The minstrel passed, barely glancing at them, but her heart was pounding with fright and excitement.

‘Sir Kai! He could have seen us!’ she hissed.

‘I know my dear. Isn’t that fabulous?’ he growled back, beginning to move again.

‘Sir Kai!’ but she also felt the exhilaration as he began to thrust inside her. She leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees to alter the angle and he responded, increasing his pace. She began to circle her hips on his, pushing back hard on him so he barely had to move, his motion mirroring her own, circling. This was good, she felt more in control and the way she could feel him inside her was incredible. His hands were now on her hips, pulling her harder onto him. She could make no sound although she desperately wanted to as she circled herself on Sir Kai, skewered on his cock, rubbing herself even harder against him to maximise his depth. This was so different from Geraint and Elyan, this time she was actually in control, setting the pace that suited her.

She reached forward, bracing herself against the balustrade, pushing even harder against him, head down so she could not be seen. She was only too aware that the minstrel may return at any minute and this time there was no disguising what they were doing. Sir Kai seemed not to care.

‘I wish everyone could see me,’ he whispered gruffly. ‘See me fucking you, girl. See what I am doing to you. See how hard I am taking you, taking you from behind so I can grind into you.’ She was beyond any response, only too well aware that they could be disturbed, but that didn’t seem to worry Sir Kai. ‘If someone finds us, someone sees us, they will know how gorgeous you are, how much you want me inside you, how much you’re loving this, how wild and wanton you are.’

Seren was unable to move, arms splayed against the balustrade as he started to thrust hard and sharp into her. The renewed action drove her to her climax and she felt his release within her. She reached out for the cloud which crystallised into a rich deep burgundy, a colourful representation of his voice.

 

She forced herself to stand and had only just adjusted her skirts around her when two more of the minstrels opened the curtain between them and passed through to the stairs. Seren took a sharp intake of breath, but Sir Kai had been released from his ensnarement, already adjusted his clothing and just smiled up at her from the chair.

‘You sang beautifully tonight, my lady,’

‘As did you, my lord.’

‘Perhaps we should join the feast now,’ and he held out her hand to escort her down the stairs. She needed his hand, she was trembling at how close they had been to being caught, but wasn’t sure whether it was fear or excitement. Or a heady mixture of them both.


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

 

Training for the tourney season began slowly, but as the weather warmed up, the sessions began in earnest. Some of the older knights who no longer competed would oversee the training. Sir Bedivere was one of those, and also one of Seren’s favourites. He would tell tall tales by the fireside in the main hall, and invite her to sing, being most effusive with his praise. He was a powerful man, only Sir Percival topping him in both height and breadth.

When his name was revealed in the drych, Gwyar smiled at her. ‘Sir Bedivere with the magic lance,’ she grinned.

‘Lady Gwyar!’

‘He should have good technique if nothing else.’

‘My lady!’

‘Seren, the Goddess has you in her protection. She wants you to learn.’

‘But what does she want for me?’

‘That I do not know, but, as Kilgharrah said, your powers are very strong and she must want you to use them for a reason. Perhaps we will find out once this spell is complete.’

‘My lady, you know you said that I belong to the Goddess?’

‘Yes, Seren?’

‘What does that mean?’

‘There are many ways to serve the Goddess. At the moment, it is to complete this spell. After that, when our kind are accepted in Camelot, she will tell you your path.’

‘Is it to serve her like you have?’

‘Seren, I do not know. You belong to her and she has guided you so far. I’m sure she has great places for you. Now help me to dress.’

 

Gwaine  had returned to Camelot the previous day and she had spent the evening sitting at his feet, a hound’s face resting in her lap, listening to Sir Bedivere telling tales of dragons and battles. She had not actively sought him out, it was as though she was attuned to his presence. She could sense immediately he was in the room as soon as she arrived and he peeled himself away from his conversation with Sir Leon to greet her.

‘My lady,’ he said, taking her hand and bowing to press his lips against it.

‘My lord,’ she said, curtseying as he rose.

‘I must apologise for my behaviour . . . before,’ he said. ‘I hope you will forgive me. Sometimes the mead makes me say stupid things.’

‘Not just the mead.’

He laughed, throwing back his head so that his hair swished attractively. ‘So do you forgive me?’

‘I might. But you have been away too long.’

‘You are right, but I have thought of you, and here, every day.’

‘The warmth of your bed?’ she asked, imagining what it must be like to sleep on the cold hard ground, but then coloured as she realised he may read far more into that statement than she intended.

He said nothing, but she could tell from the unsuppressed grin that he had. They just looked at each other, Gwaine smiling, twinkling roguish eyes at her, Seren blushing because the thoughts that were now running through her head regarding Gwaine’s warm bed were not ones she should be considering.

‘Come, let us sit by the fire,’ he said eventually. ‘Sir Bedivere is waiting for us.’

She settled herself on a cushion on the floor, leaning gently against his legs. She could feel Gwaine twirling her hair between her fingers, and then stroking her neck with gentle fingers. Oh, how she wanted him to be revealed to her by the drych, and that thought made her shiver with lust.

‘You are cold, my lady?’ Gwaine whispered. She could feel his hair soft against her cheek and his breath warm on her skin as he leaned down to her.

‘A little.’

She would rather have climbed up onto his lap and snuggled into the warmth of his arms, her faced pressed against his to be tickled by his trimmed beard, her arms around his neck. Instead, she had to settle for him draping his cloak around her shoulders, but he continued to stroke her neck affectionately.

He walked her back to her room where she returned his cloak. She didn’t want him to leave and he seemed in no hurry to go, but this was dangerous. She knew the rules. No other man. And, anyway, he would not be entranced like the others, it would be real, and that simply could not happen.

‘Goodnight, Sir Gwaine,’ she said, opening the door to her room.

He leaned forward and planted a single kiss on her cheek. It was as though a fire burned there, and she turned away smiling sadly at him, only for him to haunt her dreams for the rest of the night.

 

She wondered why the Goddess was not selecting Gwaine as one of the twelve knights as Sir Bedivere’s name was revealed. Was the Goddess saving him? Did She think that Seren would not be able to continue with the seductions if Gwaine was given to her? Seren concuded that was entirely possible and focused on her consideration of Sir Bedivere.

At training that day, Sir Bedivere was showing the younger knights the technique of target practice. Although he no longer competed in the jousts, he was skilled with the targets, always using his famous gold-tipped lance. She watched from the stands as he collected his horse at the far end, and then galloped down the length of the stadium towards the targets. He hit the target square on, piercing its centre and releasing the lance, wheeling his horse round to a round of applause, herself included.

Gwaine strolled over to her. ‘Lovely day, my lady.’

‘It is indeed, my lord,’ she replied, shielding her eyes from the sun.

‘Sir Bedivere is in good form.’

‘Are you not taking part today?’

‘I’m afraid the king has work for me.’

‘That is a pity, my lord. I would like to see you in the tourney.’

‘It is probably for the best I do not, my concentration would be elsewhere if you were watching.’

 

She caught up with Sir Bedivere as the practice session concluded for the day. ‘Sir Bedivere, you rode well today.’

‘Thank you, Lady Seren. I noticed you watching.’

‘You are very skilled.’

‘I am grateful for good equipment.’

‘Your magic lance?’

He laughed. ‘It is not magic, but it is well made. Would you like to see the tip?’

‘The golden one?’

‘Yes, that is the one. Come.’

She followed him along the corridor to his quarters, checking no one saw her enter his room.

He unlocked the cabinet in the corner of the room and removed a cloth-covered object. He uncovered it, revealing the golden tip to his lance. It was smooth and rounded, beautifully decorated. He handed it to her to hold.

‘It is beautiful, my lord. Do you not worry about damaging it?’

‘If I hit the centre of the target straight on, it suffers no damage.’

‘You are certainly very skilled at that, my lord. I was very impressed today and I love your story telling.’

‘You do?’

‘Oh yes, my lord, you have such a wonderful voice and your stories are always so entertaining.’

He was looking down at her smiling, and then she saw his pupils dilate and he was ensnared. This had been a lot easier than she had thought, before even a kiss. But now it was time to seduce him. She was still holding the tip of the lance and she carefully put it on the bed and then reached her arms around Sir Bedivere’s neck and started to kiss him.

He responded quickly, not concerned with the preliminaries. He pushed her back onto the bed and pulled up her skirts to her waist. For a moment Seren felt scared, he was so powerful, but as he looked down onto her creamy thighs, his expression softened. He knelt before her and placed his hands on her knees before sliding them up her thighs. And then he lowered his face to between her legs and started to suck at her.

The movements of his tongue across her lips, her bud and then sliding into her surprised her with its accuracy. So he wasn’t only skilled at finding targets with his lance. He took her bud between his lips and sucked hard, bolts of fire suddenly flooding through her body. She was more shocked because this was happening with so little preparation of her. His hands were pushing her thighs apart so he could forage deeper into her, alternating between sucking her bud and then sweeping his tongue deep into her, pushing his face hard against her.

He reached out and took the golden tip of the lance and placed the cold rounded tip of it against the hot lips of her entrance, curling it so that it picked up her wetness. And then he started to twist it into her, the coldness of it exciting her as much as the hardness of it entering her. Already she was gasping as he watched her face, parting her legs even wider to accept it deeper into her.

‘Do you like that, Seren?’ he whispered, his voice harsh with lust.

‘Aha,’ she gasped.

‘You want it deeper?’

‘Oh my lord . . .’ and he pushed it deeper into her until he could make no further progress.

Slowly he rotated it, smoothly in her own juices, watching her as she squirmed and responded to it, his gaze flicking between her face and between her legs. And then he moved away from her for a moment, his hand sliding along her leg. He returned with a jug of wine which he held at the mouth of the lance tip.

‘I want to drink this from you,’ he said. ‘I want to taste this from your cunny, woman.’

Her eyes widened with surprise at his language. She had always thought him such a gentleman, but she could not deny his words were arousing her. As he poured the wine into her, it seeped through the engraved holes in the sides of the lance tip and she could feel it within her. He leaned into her and began to sip at it. She tilted up her hips towards him and he drank from her, transferring his lips from hers to her mouth where she sucked and licked the wine from them. Wine that tasted of her. He repeated this, his mouth becoming firmer on hers as he transferred the liquid, simultaneously kissing the wine into her mouth and twisting the lance tip inside her until she was gasping for more.

He removed the lance tip and buried his face in her soft folds to sup the last of the wine from her. This action caused her to plunge against him, wanting to feel his face against her lips. He sipped and lapped at her, his tongue as entertaining within her as it was when he spoke.  And then he was fumbling at his trousers and he removed his face and replaced it with his hardness. He plunged hard and deep into her, urgent and purely carnal. She had not even undressed, and he focused solely on the action between her legs. But this focus was enough to ignite her orgasm and she bucked and thrust against him as he roared his release into her. She caught the cloud as it condensed into a golden bead, smiling at his enthusiasm as he withdrew and then began to polish the lance tip, not even realising she was there.

 

The following day she was out watching the tourney preparations with Gwyar.

‘Sir Bedivere has very good aim with his lance,’ she commented.

‘Oh yes, my lady,’ Seren replied with a grin.


	11. Chapter 11

Seren took her seat next to Gwyar on the dais and the two exchanged a meaningful glance.

‘Percival should do well today,’ Gwyar said. ‘Look how fit he is.’

‘It has come to my attention, my lady.’

This was the final day of the main Camelot tournament. If Percival were to beat Arthur then Seren would have to ensure she intercepted him at the post-tournament celebrations. But who would ever beat the king in a tournament? Unless, of course, Percival didn’t know it was the king.

‘My Lady, is Arthur fighting today?’

Guinevere merely smiled and answered that she was not sure. That confirmed it, he was. Seren scoured the group of knights preparing for the joust. She easily spotted Percival, the tallest and broadest of the younger knights, silver armour gleaming under his burgundy cloak. And also the most loyal to the king.

All the contestants for the tournament were gathering in the main arena. The majority were proudly wearing their own colours or those of their sponsors, but there were a significant number who either had no colours or had chosen to fight anonymously in order to give them the best chance of making a name for themselves by skill alone. Gwaine was not taking part as he and his brother Gaheris had been sent by Arthur to deal with a minor disturbance.

Seren tried to identify the king among this group, but there were too many of them and Arthur would, of course, deliberately try to remain unrecognisable. It was Guinevere who started the tournament, jousting for those who wished to participate, some individual wrestling bouts, but the final element was the biggest, with two sides meeting in the melee.

Percival took part in the wrestling, annihilating the opposition with his strength. This was followed by the jousting, with Sir Bedivere, making a rare competitive appearance. He rode up to where the ladies were seated and bowed before Seren. She tied a ribbon, her favour, onto the end of the lance, around the golden tip, her body remembering the previous month when it had been used for a more intimate experience than jousting. She could feel herself blushing at the memory although she knew Sir Bedivere would remember nothing.

He performed exceptionally well, his accuracy unseating even the most skilled competitors with his accuracy and skill, winning the competition. He bowed before the queen to accept his prize, and then bowed to Seren.

‘Your favour brought me luck,’ he said.

‘You needed no luck, my lord,’ she said, smiling.

It was as the melee was being organised that Merlin took the seat next to Seren.

‘Not assisting the king?’ she asked.

‘The king, apparently, can cope without me, for once.’

‘So he’s fighting?’

‘I could not possibly say,’ he replied with a grin.

‘Which one is he?’

‘Seren! I couldn’t possibly tell you that.’

As the two groups of men met head on in the centre of the tournament ground it was impossible to tell who was who in the dust that was raised. Seren could see Merlin scouring the participants, fingers clutching the edge of the bench until he singled out one person fighting at the side of the opposite stand. He relaxed and she realised that must be Arthur, distinguishable now by a significant dent in his shield.

He was fighting efficiently, using the minimum of effort to dispatch opponents who were being dragged or escorted out of the arena as they fell. Quickly the numbers reduced until there were less than twenty, including Arthur, Percival and Leon. It was tradition for the remaining two fighters to remove their helmets and acknowledge each other and the crowd before finishing the tournament.

Those three remained to the end, with Arthur defeating his opponent leaving only Percival and Leon to decide who would be meeting the king. Arthur began to remove his helmet, watching as Percival wrong-footed Leon and managed to disarm him, prodding Leon playfully with his sword as he went to retrieve his own. Except the look on Leon’s face even before he shouted a warning made Percival turn swiftly to find one of the anonymous fighters had decided his own fight was not over and was bearing down on him, sword raised. Percival managed to block him, and then pushed him back with such force that he overbalanced, his sword swinging round wildly and directly towards Arthur’s exposed neck as he removed his helmet. There was a gasp from the crowd as they saw what was about to happen, but then the sword suddenly stopped only a finger width’s distance from Arthur at the exact time Seren saw Merlin’s eyes flash amber and he muttered a few words under his breath.

The anonymous knight turned out to be a minor noble’s son trying to make a name for himself. Given the situation, Percival proffered the hilt of his sword to his king forfeiting the tourney. Arthur accepted with a smile, and held up Percival’s arm as a joint victor. Amongst the cheering, Seren dragged Merlin to one side. 

‘I saw what you did.’

‘What?’

‘Merlin! You can’t deny it any longer.’

He looked everywhere but directly at Seren, not knowing what to say. ‘You . . . you can’t . . .’

‘I know I can’t, and I won’t,’ she said, taking hold of both his hands. ‘Honestly, I will not say a word. Trust me.’

Finally he looked at her. ‘I trust you.’

 

‘You put up a good fight today, Sir Percival.’

He looked up sharply, not expecting anyone to be there at that late hour. He moved to stand, but Seren put out her hand to stop him and he relaxed back onto the bench. He was stripped to the waist, his body bronzed and gleaming in the light from the torches that lined the armoury, carefully polishing his sword. ‘My lady? What brings you here?’

‘I could not sleep after the feast. You left early?’

He shrugged. ‘The king wanted to celebrate, I had things to do,’ and he glanced down at his armour.

 Seren picked up a training sword and balanced it in her hand. ‘It’s been a long time since I used one of these.’

‘You learned sword craft?’

‘Oh yes.’ She went through a series of training parries, ending with a lunging thrust that placed her directly in front of Percival.

He smiled up at her and applauded. She looked deep into his eyes, but there was no reaction. She would have to play this carefully. She could not afford to lose him.

‘I used to have my own plates,’ she said. She strolled along the line of armour, placed in size, until she reached the far end where the boys trained. She could also feel Percival’s eyes following her. ‘This would look to fit me.’

‘You would like to try it?’ Percival asked with a smile.

‘You will assist?’

‘As you wish, my lady.’ He stood and approached her.

‘First let me change into these britches.’ He made no move. ‘Sir Percival!’

‘Oh!’ He turned away, but not before she caught the hint of a smile on his face.

She deliberately chose a tight pair of britches and an equally fitted shirt. Glancing at her reflection in the suit of armour opposite, she nodded at the effect. ‘Sir Percival?’

He wasn’t looking at her face so she was unable to ensnare him, but his eyes were travelling down her body, over the smooth rise of her breasts emphasised in the linen shirt, over the outline of her waist, the curve of her hips. She took a step forward, putting herself between the knight and the torchlight, and could see him tense as it silhouetted her breasts through the shirt, highlighting her form. And then she pointed at one set of plates. ‘Shall we try that one?’ and she turned away from him.

He easily lifted the breastplate with attached pauldrons over her head and gently lowered it into place. She felt the weight of it on her shoulders and the plate pressing against her breasts. She held up her arms so he could fasten the straps at the waist and she could see his strong fingers trembling, taking much longer than he should have to fasten the two straps. He moved closer to her to fasten the arm straps and she could feel his breath warm, but slightly unsteady on her neck. She could feel her own breathing deepening, responding to his. His fingers caught at the side of her breast as he fastened the straps around her right arm, and she involuntarily gasped but did not move.

He moved to her left arm, but the strap was refusing to accede to his demands as his fingers were trembling. She turned slightly to ease his access and he moved closer. She could see the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheeks, and he was biting his lip in concentration as he focused on the buckle. She rolled her shoulders, moving her arms to test the constraints of the armour.

‘How does that feel, my lady?’

‘Good, good. Perhaps this strap a little tighter?’ and she indicated the one at the bottom of the breastplate.

He placed his hand on her waist to steady her as he pulled the buckle a notch tighter. And then he noticed her hair was caught underneath the plate. Gently, oh so gently, he ran his finger around the back of her neck, lifting the hair out of. His fingers traced a tingle across her skin, incredibly tender for a man of his bulk, and she immediately missed them as he removed them. ‘Is that better?’

She forced herself to flex her arms in front of him. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

‘It suits you. The armour.’

Seren picked up the sword and prodded him on the bare flesh of his stomach. ‘Care to fight, Sir Knight?’

He laughed and she watched the muscles of his stomach tense. His body was so finely honed that every inch of his flesh betrayed not only his fitness, but also the occasional scars from serving his king. She raised the sword and rested the tip on his shoulder before playfully trailing it down over his chest to rest it once more at his waist. She prodded him purposefully in the stomach and he flinched.

‘Your sword?’ she prompted.

‘You’re serious?’

‘I could do with the practice.’

Grinning, he picked up one of the training swords, knowing that one blow from his fighting sword could cleave her in half. She settled into position, balanced on her back foot, testing the feel of the sword in her hand. She started with a gentle sweep so as to engage with his blade, and then twisted her sword under it to aim back at his side. As expected, he easily parried her, but he smiled, acknowledging her technique. And then she started a full on attack, driving him suddenly backwards with the speed of her moves, if not the strength behind them, taking him by surprise so that he could not retaliate as normal for fear of hurting her. The blades clashed in the dim light as she kept up the momentum, forcing him back several paces before he found his resistance and could judge his ability to stop her without hurting her. Her muscles were responding to their much-rehearsed movements, despite them being little used recently.

She paused as his sword held hers away, and then she threw it underneath his into her left hand and began another ferocious melee, smiling through her gritted teeth as she caught him unawares once again. This time, she pushed him back as far as the end of the line of armour until he refound his balance and stalled her. As she twisted her sword against his, he pulled his upwards upright so hers ran up the shaft, forcing her forward and off her balance. Panting heavily, she squared up to him, swords crossed between them. His eyes were searching hers as they stared at one another as she willed him to kiss her, to take her, she wanted him now.

But he took a step back from her, still watching her, but putting space between them. ‘You fight well, my lady.’

‘For a lady?’

‘For anyone. But especially so . . . for a lady.’

The pause was just long enough for her to lower her sword onto the bench. ‘Arthur is lucky to have you as his knight.’ She stood, just looking at him, breath still heavy with the exertion. ‘Have you had enough, Percival?’

‘Of sword play?’

‘Of any play,’ she answered provocatively. ‘But first help me with my plates.’

As he carefully undid the straps at her waist, she breathed in the strong musky scent of him as he leaned in. Catching her waist to turn her to undo the straps at her arms, she felt his hand linger.

He lifted the armour over her head and replaced it on the rack. She went to lift the sword at the same time as he reached for it and their hands touched. She withdrew, lowering her eyes demurely, dropping her head so that the linen shirt fell slowly forward. From his angle, he could see directly into the opening at the neck, and she heard his breath catch. She pretended to adjust her shoe, reaching out to steady herself on his arm and then, without letting go, she looked up at him and she saw his pupils enlarge with lust. Finally, he was hers.

 


	12. Chapter 12

The sword clattered to the floor as Percival’s resistance broke and he grasped hold of her by the arms and drew him roughly towards him, in stark contrast to his earlier tenderness. His eyes flicked between hers, as though looking for her agreement, and she parted her lips in acquiescence. And then his mouth was hard against hers as he crushed her against him and she could feel exactly how hard were his muscles through the flimsiness of her shirt.

His arm encircled her, his bicep hard against her, almost squeezing the breath from her as she hungrily kissed him back. His fingers were pulling at her shirt at the back and when it resisted, in frustration she heard it tear. She felt a tugging on the material, more tearing, and soon the linen had been completely removed, sliding across her skin so she could feel the cool air on her nakedness. Tentatively, and oh so slowly, his fingertips trailed across her skin and then his hand felt the weight of her breast, gently supporting as he continued to kiss her.

Seren turned slightly, encouraging his fingers onto her breast and he squeezed it gently, seemingly careful to not hurt her with his strength. But she wanted more from him and clamped her hand over his, forcing his fingers harder against her. He responded, kissing her harder, his other hand clamping itself against her bottom, forcing her against his groin. She started to move her fingers over his skin, catching at the scars, stroking tenderly over them individually, acknowledging their presence and the sacrifices that had created them.

‘My lady-’

‘Seren,’ she interrupted. ‘Call me Seren.’

‘Oh Seren,’ he muttered, but was silenced by another frenzy of kissing.

Realising that they weren’t progressing any further, Seren slid her fingers down his body, enjoying the way his muscles undulated under her fingers, and paused at his waist. He withdrew from her, keeping hold of her right arm with his left hand as he tugged at his belt, all the time holding his gaze with her own. The ensnarement was growing stronger as he loosened his britches, his boots skittering across the stone floor as he kicked them off.

And then, still gripping her arm, he drew himself fully upright in front of her. Seren, whose eyes had been briefly following the path of the boots, began to look up the length of his muscular legs, pausing at the sight of his manhood, and then continued up his gleaming torso until their eyes locked once more, her cheeks flushed and her breathing unsteady.

‘My lord knight, I . . .’ but Seren could not continue.

‘You are scared?’ he asked, quietly.

‘Only that you are so strong . . . but I cannot wait,’ and she simultaneously grabbed his manhood with one hand and pushed him back against the armoury bench with the other. Realising she was still wearing the britches, she wriggled out of them until she stood fully naked before him, her hair hanging over her breasts which were begging for his attention. She moved forward so that she was standing between his thighs and rested her arms on his shoulders. He took the hint and leaned forward, nuzzling her breasts with his face, and then his tongue was searching for her nipple. He took it gently between his lips and began to suck, his left hand creeping up to her right breast as his tongue teased her left nipple.

She stroked across his shoulders, softly at first, then stronger, her fingers starting to mould the firm muscles as his tongue and hands caressed her. She massaged him deeply and he responded, matching her firmness with the strength of his ministrations to her breasts, swapping his mouth from one nipple to the other, squeezing and stroking. She parted her legs, pushing apart his thighs, allowing the cool air to caress the tops of her legs. But soon that wasn’t enough and she moved to straddle his legs, parting her own wider and then guiding one of his hands to between her thighs.

There was a moment’s hesitation before his long strong fingers began to creep backwards. She couldn’t help but release a groan as the tips of his fingers began to press into her, and she involuntarily widened her legs further lowering herself onto him. He responded, moving gently at first, and then more firmly as she gripped him tightly by the shoulders, wanting to feel him moving inside her. He responded and she threw back her head uttering a long low moan of pleasure.

She returned to kissing him as his fingers worked their magic within her, strong, but gentle, his thumb pulling forward to catch her bud and then his fingers plunging exquisitely back into her.

Gradually she felt herself inching forward, towards him, and then her knees touched the wood of the bench and she thrust her body against his as she knelt on the bench and lowered herself slowly onto his length.  He paused, his breathing deep, and she wriggled down him, onto him, and she pressed his head against her neck, tightening her grasp as she felt him slide into her, with seemingly no end. When she could bear it no longer, she pushed at his left shoulder and he turned and lay down along the bench. She straddled him, looking down first at his chest as his hands grasped her hips, and then up to his face as she began to move slowly, rhythmically, feeling him so incredibly deep within her. He was concentrating, focused, drinking her in with his eyes as she moved above him, finding their unique rhythm.

She wanted this to last forever, looking down on his honed muscles, for the first time blessing the Goddess for the task she had set her, for the first time wanting this experience for herself, not just for the spell. As she increased the pace, rushing headlong towards her crescendo, once more she threw back her head, groaning her peaking with a feral cry and she flung herself forward onto his chest. But there was no release. He was not done with her.

It was some moments before she could gather herself together and gradually pushed herself back into a sitting position, still astride him, him still inside her, watching her closely. How she wished he would be able to remember this. His fingers stroked delicately down the side of her body, tracing her outline, her contours, which responded to his touch, her skin tingling already with delightful anticipation.

‘Seren . . . oh dear lord . . . Seren,’ he whispered.

She leaned forward to kiss him, to hope that maybe some memory would remain. He sat upright, holding her against him, and easily stood with her clinging to him. She wrapped her legs around him as he cleared the workbench of partly mended weapons and twitched across a cloak before he settled her onto it. He started to kiss her, delicately at first, and she stroked her breasts against his chest, her nipples reacting, protruding, heightened further by the touch of his fingers as he stroked over them. She explored his body with her fingers, stroking her through his short spiky hair at his neck, then over his shoulders, and then down over his chest, revelling in the smoothness of his muscles and their curve and firmness.

He was kissing her deliciously, varying between soft and gentle then harder, then dropping back to barely skimming her lips with his own, occasionally sucking on them, pressing hard against her, only keeping her upright as he was holding her so firmly with one arm. He began to move inside her and she responded, wrapping her legs higher around his hips, angling herself up to him. He reacted, thrusting deeper, hitching up her knees to around his waist, and gently letting her lie back onto the workbench. He grasped hold of her thighs, lifting her bottom from the bench, reaching further into her depths with every movement.

Seren was releasing little grunts of pleasure at every thrust, but it was only when he lifted her knees and placed her legs over his shoulders that she began to shudder with gratification, the grunts becoming louder interspersed with long low animal moans that she could not control as her orgasm took over. He was supporting her back, but she arched up to meet him, driving her hips as hard against his as he was thrusting against hers. She flung back her arms above her head, her head twisting from side to side as he plundered her, still pulling her hard against him with every thrust, driving her orgasm onto a new level, overwhelming her.

‘Seren, Seren,’ he muttered, in time with his plunging, ‘Oh dear lord, oh I can’t . . .’ and he groaned deep and low as he emptied himself into her, gradually slowing, lowering her back onto the workbench with strong fingers, as, sated, she panted his name.

He wrapped her tenderly in the cloak, pulled her towards him and held her, whispering her name as he rocked her gently. She could have stayed forever in his strong arms. He may not say much, but his body spoke volumes, hard and strong and protective. Eventually she looked up at him, their eyes connected and she could see him withdraw from her as their lovemaking was erased from his mind, the little cloud condensed in her hand. He released her, walked back to the bench collecting his clothes on the way, dressed, returned to where he had originally been sitting, picked up his sword and began to polish it, no longer aware of her presence.

Sadly, Seren pulled her dress and shoes back on and left the armoury, her body still trembling, but his essence safe in her keeping, a bead of truest blue.


	13. Chapter 13

‘Gwyar! My cousin is coming to visit!’

Gwyar looked up from the book. ‘Nia?’

‘Yes. It will be the first time I have seen her since coming to Camelot.’

‘Dark hair? Brown eyes? A bit plain? Is that the one?’

Seren laughed. ‘You judge her harshly, Gwyar. She was still on the verge of womanhood when you last saw her. She was prettier than I was at that age.’

Gwyar glanced up at Seren. ‘You are right, she was,’ and then, smiling, returned to her book.

 

Nia arrived with a flurry of activity. Her caravan was also bringing a delivery of building materials and so was accompanied by some builders and a number of mounted guards. As news of the party’s approach reached Camelot, Seren and Gwyar went down to meet them. Nia was riding at the head of the party, but as she saw Seren, she kicked her horse into a gallop and hurtled towards them.

She jumped down from her horse and hugged Seren closely.

‘It is good to see you,’ she said. ‘I have so much news.’ And then realised Gwyar was also there and quickly curtseyed to her.

‘You had a safe journey?’ Gwyar asked, nodding towards the men dismounting in the courtyard.

‘Yes, although they are a bunch of turnip heads. Do they not realise the way to lure a maid into their beds is with brains, not brawn?’

Seren laughed out loud. ‘I think you may fare better here in Camelot.’

‘I could not fair worse. Not a man of interest among them.’ And then she spied Merlin approaching the group. ‘Who is that?’

Seren turned and then waited for him to reach them. ‘Merlin, may I present my cousin, Lady Nia. Nia, this is Merlin, the king’s servant. Be careful, Merlin, she is a feisty one.’

He laughed. ‘I have heard the same said about you, Lady Seren.’ He bowed to Nia and she curtseyed in response. ‘How long will you be staying?’ he asked.

‘Trying to be rid of me already, Merlin?’ she teased.

‘No! I . . . No!’ he repeated, blushing to the tips of his ears.

‘I thought you said they weren’t all turnip heads in Camelot,’ Nia said, turning and winking at Seren.

‘Oh Merlin is no turnip head,’ Seren replied. ‘He may be a clotpole at times, but he is not a turnip head.’

Merlin’s eyes flicked between them, unsure of how to respond. And then they all started to laugh together.

 

Seren walked with Nia to her quarters which were adjacent to her own. Some food and wine was brought to them as they sat by the fire.

‘Your mother is well, Seren. She sends her love.’

‘She wants me to come home?’

‘No, she is content that you are here in Camelot with Gwyar.’

‘And my father?’

‘No change.’

‘And you, Nia. How are you?’

Nia looked suddenly young and frightened. ‘Seren, there have been things happening to me that I do not understand.’

‘What things?’

‘Strange visions and . . . I have been able to make things happen that I’ve willed.’ She looked up at Seren and as their eyes met, Seren flashed her eyes at Nia and Nia’s responded.

‘You also have the magic,’ Seren said quietly.

‘Also? You have it too?’

Seren nodded. ‘But you must keep it our secret. Magic is not welcome here.’

‘Not even in Camelot?’

‘No. The king is not so against it as his father, but it is not openly practiced.’

‘But you are safe here?’

‘Safer than in most places, Nia.’

It was Merlin who dragged Nia’s bags up to her room. ‘Come sit with us, Merlin,’ Seren said. ‘Nia is also . . . one of us.’

Merlin fired his eyes at Nia and hers responded. He took her hand. ‘Do not be scared. It is both a blessing and a curse, but it is who you are. Who we are.’

‘But you are the king’s servant? Does he not know you have magic?’

‘I have been fortunate in that he has not yet discovered it.’

‘Have you never used it?’

‘Oh I have used it more times than I care to remember, Nia. But he has never seen proof. Or does not want to. You must be careful. I do not know how he would react were he to find out about me. About any of us.’

Seren knew that what Merlin said was true. This was what was driving Gwyar to do what she was planning, to reintroduce magic to Camelot. Seren spotted that Merlin and Nia were still holding hands and coughed discretely. They released each other as though stung but Seren merely smiled.

After Merlin had gone, Seren and Nia spoke long into the night.

 

‘A new dress, Lady Seren?’

She curtseyed before him. ‘You noticed, Sir Lamorak. It is new to me.’ The dress was indeed new and worn entirely for Sir Lamorak. A deep burgundy, it was cut to enhance her figure, but was still one of Gwyar’s cast offs.

He nodded, understanding her words. ‘It becomes you well, my lady. The embroidery is very intricate.’

‘Thank you, my lord. You are looking very fine yourself,’ she smiled back at him.

‘Thank you.’ He sat a little more upright in his chair. ‘You will be singing tonight?’ he asked, his eyes still lingering on the dress, or, more importantly, what was filling it.

‘If the king requests it,’ and she curtseyed again, low and deep.

As she walked away, she was aware of Sir Lamorak’s companions teasing him about their conversation, but she did not mind. She had spent all day preparing for his seduction, since his name had been revealed by the drych.

What little she knew about Sir Lamorak revolved around clothes. He was always the best dressed of the knights, his hair groomed, and he was reported to bathe every single day. She wondered how he faired when they were away from the castle, but did not linger on that as she was summoned to Gwyar’s side for introductions to a visiting king from the eastern counties.

She curtseyed as she was presented to King Iustig. She felt his eyes roam over her body and she looked up to his face. His hair was worn very short and he had a moustache that only partly covered a long jagged scar that crossed his left cheek and ended on the right hand side of his mouth. His hard, dark eyes appraised her and she lowered her face from his.

‘What did you say her name was?’ he asked Arthur.

‘Lady Seren.’

‘From?’

‘Cambernic.’

‘She is a long way from home.’

‘She accompanies my sister, Lady Gwyar.’

His eyes flicked to Gwyar but then back to Seren. ‘She is unmarried?’

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but Gwyar interrupted him. ‘She serves her religion, my lord.’ This was as close as Gwyar had ever got to declaring Seren’s destiny to Arthur.

‘She can serve me any time,’ Iustig said with a smile that twisted because of his scar.

Arthur moved him on down the line, but Seren felt distinctly uncomfortable by this man’s presence. She was not alone in noticing how Iustig’s attention was directed at her. Several of the knights were already watching him stonily, although Seren got the distinct impression that he was not here to make any friends. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure why he was in Camelot.

Arthur requested she sing and she obliged, songs of the beauty of Camelot and the joys of peace. Iustig had drunk copiously, getting more raucous with every goblet consumed. He lolled back in his chair and watched Seren as she wound her way around the room between the tables. She paused by Sir Lamorak, singing a verse to him of the chivalry of the Camelot knights and he positively glowed with pleasure. Tonight’s seduction seemed easily achieved. But she was disregarding Iustig.

As she finished and curtseyed to receive her applause, Iustig stood and called to her.

‘Come here, girl,’ he slurred, his lips red-stained from the wine. She approached cautiously. ‘Closer,’ he said. She took a step forward, but he reached out and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her onto his lap. There was a uniform movement of hand to dagger by the knights, and then a corresponding reaction by Iustig’s guards. Seren struggled and managed to elbow him sharply between his legs so that he let out a grunt, but released her. He laughed.

‘You have a feisty one here, Arthur. If she were mine, I would put her over my knee and spank her into submission.’

‘But she is not yours, Sir. As my sister said, she serves her religion.’

‘There is more than one way to serve a religion,’ Iustig stated. ‘If she was between m sheets, I’m sure she could learn to worship me,’ and he roared with laughter.

‘King Iustig,’ Arthur replied in a warning tone, but he was interrupted by Sir Lamorak.

He spoke icily. ‘Do not lay another hand on the Lady Seren or you will not have a hand to lay on your own rod.’

Iustig rose unsteadily to his feet, swiftly followed by Arthur.

‘Who sent this . . . this popinjay to scold me?’ Iustig snarled.

‘King Iustig-’ Arthur began, moving between them, but was unceremoniously pushed to one side as Iustig squared up to Lamorak.

Seren was watching them both, breathing hard. ‘Stop it!’ she said. ‘Stop this!’

‘Getting a girl to fight your battles, sir knight?’ he sneered.

Sir Lamorak took a step forward, hand reaching for his dagger. Immediately Iustig’s men stepped forward and Arthur put himself once more between the two men. ‘Seren is right. Stop this. Now. Lamorak, enough! You have made your point.’

Seren took hold of Sir Lamorak’s arm and led him out of the chamber.

‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said.

‘I should have killed him where he stood.’

‘And started a war? Over me?’ He pulled a wry face. ‘Oh you are so sweet, my lord.’

‘Sweet?’

She laughed at him and she saw his face soften. ‘Come, let us walk.’

‘Walk where? It is raining outside.’

‘That is true. But I do not want to stay in there.’

‘Seren, I take it you have no funds of your own for clothes?’

‘No my lord. Gwyar is very generous though,’ she added defensively.

‘Some of my family were staying recently. My sister left a trunk of clothes. Shall we see if there are some that would suit you?’

‘Oh my lord, that is more than generous of you.’

‘Nonsense, child. Now come with me.’ 


	14. Chapter 14

 

All the dresses were spread out on the bed while Lamorak perused them. He held one up against Seren, then shook his head.

‘I cannot tell while you wear this dress,’ he said, frowning.

She walked closer to him. ‘Would it help if I were to take this off?’ she asked.

She saw his pupils dilate and knew that he was ensnared. ‘It would be less distracting, my lady.’

She turned her back on him. ‘Could you . . .?’ and she indicated the lacing at the back.

He deftly undid it the lacing and she let the dress slide from her shoulders, desperately hoping that Lamorak was more interested in her than he was in her clothes. She was not disappointed as she turned back to face him.

‘Oh Seren,’ he whispered. ‘You are so . . . perfect.’

She looked up at him, blinking. ‘You are pleased with what you see, my lord?’

He reached out his hand and began to smooth over her skin. ‘High breasts, beautifully rounded, delicious nipples. See how they react to my touch? Beautiful skin.’ He stroked along her collar bone, pausing in the centre, and then along the other one. ‘You know . . .’

‘Yes, my lord?’

‘Try this one on.’

He helped her lace up the back and she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She must be a very similar size to Lamorak’s sister as the gown fitted her well. He gave her some shoes to put on. They had heels and she was a little unsteady on her feet as she tried them, but Lamorak steadied her, smiling at her attempts.

‘You are like a young foal,’ he said, laughing. ‘Here, try this dress.’

After several more dresses, he paused and appraised her.

‘It is a shame that these dresses hide some of your best features.’

‘My lord? You would wish me wear . . . something else?’

‘You know . . . I would really like to see you . . . in some tight white britches. Wait there,’ and he opened another trunk and withdrew some fine soft leather britches.

Seren wriggled into them. They were so close fitting that they clung to every curve.

‘And a shirt that is a little transparent, I think.’

He handed her a shirt that was almost totally transparent and obviously meant to be worn under another garment. But she could see that Lamorak approved. ‘What would you like me to do, my lord?’

‘Just walk up and down for me,’ he said.

She did so, wiggling her way up the room and then back again, the feeling of the britches on her femininity turning her on. She could feel the soft material of the shirt rubbing against her nipples, arousing them into pertness. It was obvious that Lamorak had noticed as she saw him discretely adjust himself. She swished her hair over her shoulder and paused at the far end of the room, side on to him so he could see the curve of her breasts and her protruding nipples.

‘Lovely,’ he whispered. ‘Perfection.’

She walked back to him, but when she neared him, she did not stop, pressing her body against him so that she could feel his hardness pressing against her. He gripped her arms and began to kiss her, holding him against her. She started to rub himself against his hardness and he moaned through the kiss. She pushed him back onto the bed and, still kissing him, straddled him, rubbing hard against him through their clothes. The pressure was unbelievable, his hardness rubbing the softness of her britches against her bud. She desperately wanted to feel him inside her, but did not want this feeling to end.

She sat upright, still rubbing against him. She could not stop now, she needed to assuage herself. She was panting hard as she upped the pace, rubbing herself harder and harder against him until emotions flooded through her and she cried out with pleasure.

It was then that he turned her onto the bed and peeled the britches from her. And then his face was between her legs, his mouth cool against her burning lips and she pushed herself hard against him, wanting to feel him.

‘Take me, take me,’ she whispered.

But he was purposely taking his time, making her squirm, her hands reaching out for him, but he was focusing on bringing her to climax once again with his tongue. She grabbed the sheets with her fingers, gripping them tightly as the emotions began to rise within her as he lapped and sucked, sweeping his tongue up and down her deliciously. As she gasped her climax, she was rewarded with him sliding up her body and then she was filled with his hardness. She was gasping for him to thrust hard into her, but he took his time, languidly easing into and out of her until he too lost control and began to drive into her, harder and faster. She was being driven up the bed with his movements until she reached above her and braced herself against the head board. And then she could really feel the length of him as he drove into her harder and faster, more powerful than she could have believed.

‘If Iustig could see me now,’ he panted between strokes.

‘He could not bear it,’ my lord,’ she replied between gasps. ‘He . . . he would want to be you . . . want to be here . . . doing this to me.’

‘Oh yes, oh yes,’ he panted.

‘But he would not make me . . . feel like this, my lord. . . He would not make me . . . feel the way you do.’

‘Tell me.’

‘He would be . . . rough and . . . crude . . . and impatient.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘And so quick . . . no control . . . no style.’

‘Oh Seren!’ he finally muttered and she felt him release himself within her.

She reached up and grasped the cloud that appeared and curled her fingers around it, smiling as it condensed into a rather ornately decorated bead.

 

‘You! You girl!’

Seren looked up at the sound of the rough voice as she crossed the courtyard with Nia. It was Iustig calling her from the steps of the citadel. She curtseyed but stayed where she was, Nia positioning herself behind Seren as much as she could.

‘Come here!’

She reluctantly walked towards him, Nia following, hoping that Arthur or one of the knights would be around, but the courtyard was quiet. She curtseyed again at the bottom of the steps.

‘You’re the girl that was singing last night, weren’t you?’ She nodded. ‘And who is this?’

‘My cousin, my lord.’

‘Does she have a name?’

‘She is called Nia, my lord.’

‘Nia. A pretty name for a pretty girl. Come closer, both of you.’ They slowly climbed the steps to him.

‘Pretty little things, aren’t you? But I prefer my women more rounded like this,’ and he reached out and grabbed hold of Seren’s breast. With a flash of amber eyes, he found himself on his back.

‘You . . . you sorceress!’

But it wasn’t Seren who had attacked Iustig, it was Nia. Eyes still blazing gold, she stood over him, raining a burning wind onto him so that he was gasping in agony.

‘Do. Not. Touch. Her.’

It was Percival who broke her spell simply by lifting her bodily out of the way. Iustig was clutching at his face which was scarlet, the skin blistering.

‘Witch!’ he cried out. ‘Sorceress! You will die for this!’

‘Percival, thank the Gods. Can you take him to the infirmary. I will do what I can.’

Percival placed Nia carefully on the ground and then lifted Iustig easily, but roughly. Seren hurried ahead to open doors but unusually Percival wasn’t bothering too much about whether Iustig was fitting through the doorways and he received a few bashes on the head. Seren was trying to think how best to deal with this situation which would require a magical solution.

‘Put him on the bed,’ she said, and tried not to smile as Percival unceremoniously dumped him. She rang a cloth out in cold water and tried to place it over Iustig’s face, but he was fighting her off. She nodded to Percival who took the cloth and placed it firmly over Iustig’s face and held it there, strategically placing a leg across both of Iustig’s to pin him to the bed. Iustig’s hands grabbed hold of Percival’s arms but it was like trying to move two planted trees as he lay, immobilised, but still grunting.

Seren’s eyes flashed and she began to heal the man’s skin under the cloth. Percival was watching her, but remained silent. When she felt the healing was done, she nodded to Percival to remove the cloth. Iustig immediately sat up and lunged at Seren, but Percival easily held him back.

‘That . . . that witch!’ he spat at Seren. ‘Where is she? I’ll see her burned for this!’

‘No you will not,’ Seren retorted. ‘She was just defending me.’

He felt his face, touching only soft skin rather than burning, peeling flesh. ‘And you! Was this magic?’

‘No it was not,’ Percival interjected looking directly at Seren. ‘She used a special lotion on the cloth. That is all.’

Iustig grunted, not convinced, but not wanting to argue with Percival who was still gripping his shoulder. ‘Take me to Arthur,’ he muttered. ‘I still want to see that witch burn.’

Percival escorted Iustig with Seren walking a safe distance behind them. The guards outside the king’s official chambers made them pause, but Arthur summoned them in.

‘King Iustig,’ he began with a sigh.

‘You are harbouring a witch,’ Iustig venomously spat at Arthur.

‘Am I?’

‘That child. This woman’s cousin. She is a witch.’

‘So you say.’

‘She breathed fire at me. She must be punished. She must burn.’

‘I am not in the habit of burning people just because they have magic.’

‘You are not the king your father was.’ Even Seren knew that was the wrong thing to say to Arthur.

‘I am not, that is true,’ he said icily. He indicated to one of the guards. ‘Fetch Lady Nia. So what prompted this display of magic?’

There was a long pause. ‘I was . . . talking with the Lady Seren,’ he said carefully.

‘Seren?’

Seren took a step forward and curtsied. She did not want to be embroiled in an argument that could bring in her magical healing powers or condemn Nia. Nia could not have been held far away as she was escorted into the king’s room, tears still streaking her face, her body trembling, before Seren had a chance to speak.

‘That’s the witch!’ Iustig declared.

‘He groped Lady Seren,’ Nia declared, looking daggers at Iustig, but at least her eyes remained blue.

‘It was mere banter, Arthur,’ Iustig declared. ‘Not enough for _her_ to attack me.’

‘You look remarkably unscathed for someone who’s had fire breathed on them.’

‘It was merely superficial,’ Percival interjected. Iustig did not respond, possibly because Percival’s hand was clamped firmly on his shoulder.

‘Lady Seren?’ Arthur asked.

‘I’m sure King Iustig meant no offence,’ Seren said.

‘Seren!’ Nia protested. I glared at her, willing her to be quiet, but she would not. ‘He grabbed hold of her, my lord,’ she began, wriggling against the hands of the guards who were holding her.

‘Nia, calm down,’ I said, but Nia was working herself up into an indignant rage until I saw her eyes flash amber and both guards were flung aside.

‘See!’ Iustig yelled. ‘A witch!’ Nia shot him a flash that would have felled him if Percival had not kept him upright.

‘Nia!’ Arthur shouted at her. ‘Stop this at once!’

Having the king shouting at her seemed to bring Nia to her senses, and she slumped where she stood. Unfortunately Iustig was now in full flow, demanding her immediate execution. Arthur nodded to the guards to take Nia away and waited for Iustig to stop ranting.

‘And if you do not execute her, this means war,’ he finished dramatically.

‘I will not execute her,’ Arthur said very calmly.

‘Then you leave me no choice,’ Iustig stated. ‘From this moment, Caer Lerion is at war with Camelot.’

‘Iustig!’ Arthur began, but it was clear there was no reasoning with the man and Arthur nodded that Percival should let him leave.

‘May I talk to him, Sire?’ Seren asked.

‘If you think it will do any good.’

Seren ran after Iustig. ‘Sire!’ He paused for a moment. ‘Please reconsider. King Arthur is not to blame for this.’

‘Arthur needs to take control of his kingdom.’

‘He has, my lord. But he does not feel the need to murder people for who they are.’

‘Perhaps he should. But I see he cares not for preserving royal blood considering the serving wench he married. He should have waited for you. You look like you would breed well.’

Before Seren could stop herself, the palm of her hand had made sharp contact with his face. His powerful fist hit her squarely on the nose and stars exploded in front of her eyes before she crumpled to the ground.

 

‘She’s coming round.’ In the distance, Seren could hear Gaius’s voice. Her stomach lurched and she turned and vomited to her side.

‘Thanks,’ she heard Merlin’s echoey voice. ‘My clean boots.’

As she lay back on the bed, she heard Gaius say,’ You’ve done a good job on her nose.’

‘Better than it was, I think,’ Merlin commented. Seren managed to open her eyes. ‘I thought that might get a response.’

‘What . . . what happened?’

‘You were on the wrong end of Iustig’s fist.’

‘Oh. Yes. I slapped his face for saying I looked like I would breed well. How long have I been here?’

‘A day.’

‘What?’ Seren struggled to sit up.

‘We had to sedate you so Merlin could mend your nose,’ Gaius said. ‘It was a bit of a mess. Fortunately we managed to get you here before anyone could see how bad it was.’

‘And Nia?’

‘She has, erm . . . left Camelot.’

‘Left? Voluntarily?’ There was a lengthy silence. ‘You mean banished?’

‘It’s probably for the best,’ Gaius said. ‘And you should leave too.’

‘Why? I’m going nowhere.’

‘Iustig has declared war on Camelot. The guards tried to seize him but his own soldiers freed him. Arthur is hoping that it will all blow over, but . . .’

‘So slapping his face didn’t really help, did it?’ She didn’t need to see their expressions.

 

‘Actually, Merlin, it’s not bad,’ Seren said, examining her face in the looking glass.

‘In comparison to how it was when you were brought here, it’s a work of art!’ and then he ducked out of her reach.

‘Do you think Iustig will actually go to war over this?’ Seren asked.

Merlin shrugged. ‘Men have gone to war over less.’

‘Do you think Nia will be all right? She was only defending me. I feel responsible.’

‘It was not your fault, Seren. But it does not make it easier for us. Yet more evidence for Arthur as to why magic is unwelcome at Camelot.’

 

‘Percival!’

He bowed as she approached. ‘My lady, you are well?’

‘Yes, yes I am. Percival, about the, erm, healing of Iustig . . .’

‘I saw nothing, my lady, just you treating him to . . . the best of your abilities.’

‘Then you understand perfectly, sir. Thank you.’

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

Seren was gathering sorrel from the castle garden for Gaius when she saw a dust cloud in the distance heading towards them. By the time her basket was full, they were close enough that she could make out two horses, but it appeared only one rider. In her heart, she was hoping it was Gwaine who had returned home to honour commitments there, but as she did this with every lone rider, there was little conviction in her gaze, and neither horse was Gwaine’s distinctive Gringolet. It was only as the horses were slowing down for the castle gates that she could see there was another person, slumped over the saddle of the second horse.

Seren hurried down to find Gaius, but they had already brought in the man and he was lying on one of the beds in the infirmary.

‘Ah Seren, good. I need your help. Is that water boiling?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘And is that fresh sorrel?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Put some to soak in the boiling water and bring it here.’

His dusty companion was by the man’s side, looking concerned. ‘He will live, Gaius?’ he asked, his accent betraying his French roots.

‘I cannot say, Menas, I need to see the wound. How did it happen?’

‘We were attacked by a tarasque.’

‘A tarasque? Here in Camelot?’

Menas nodded. ‘It caught Guiy with its tail when his horse took fright. I thought it best to bring him straight here.’

‘You were right to do so. Menas, help me undress him, I need to see the extent of the poison. Seren, I will need your help to treat this. Can you get down that green book for me?’ Seren fetched him the book and he flicked through it as Menas removed Guiy’s boots and trousers and covered his lower body with a clean sheet. ‘Here, can you make up this medicine? All the jars are labelled. Do you think you can do it?’

‘I’m sure I can, sir,’ she replied, hurrying to bring together the ingredients although half-watching the two men as they began to peel off Guiy’s tunic from where it had stuck to his body with blood.

‘Oh,’ was all Gaius said as he examined the wound. He started to clean it, the man still motionless on the bed. If it wasn’t for the faintest of movements of breath, Seren would have thought him dead.

When she had mixed all the ingredients together and added boiled water to turn it into a paste, she walked over to where Gaius was working and saw the wound for the first time. It wasn’t deep, crossing his chest from collar bone to waist, but the slash was edged with a curious unnatural green.

‘It’s the poison from the tarasque, Seren. We need to treat him quickly before it spreads. Hold the bowl, please.’ Gaius began to spread the paste onto the wound. For the first time, the man reacted, his body jerking as the mixture reacted with the poison. ‘Menas, Seren, hold him still please.’ Menas took one arm and Seren put down the bowl where Gaius could reach it and took hold of his other arm in order to keep him still so that Gaius could continue to treat him. However at Seren’s touch, he immediately calmed. Seren released him only once so that she could let Gaius access the lower part of the wound, and immediately Guiy showed distress, calming once more at her touch.

She stroked his arm, and his breathing seemed to ease, becoming slower and deeper, with her movements. Gaius completely covered the wound and then dressed it with the flat sorrel leaves before covering his torso with a clean square of linen.

‘There’s nothing more we can do now except wait and hope,’ Gaius said quietly. ‘I cannot tell how much poison his body has absorbed. He must sleep. Menas, can you fetch the king and then go and rest. I will call you if there is any change.’

‘Thank you, Gaius,’ said Menas huskily. ‘He is my dearest brother, please save him.’

‘I will do everything I can, Menas.’

When Seren tried to leave him, Guiy started to show signs of anguish, only calming at her touch. ‘I will stay with him, Gaius.’

She was sitting at his side, soothing his brow with a cool damp cloth as he became more feverish, when Arthur and Merlin arrived.

‘How is he, Gaius?’ Arthur asked.

‘Not good, Sire. I have done what I can. If he survives the night, we can be more hopeful.’

‘You did not call for me, Gaius?’ Merlin asked.

‘Seren helped me. She was quicker than you . . . and didn’t spill so much.’

Arthur barked a laugh but then became serious again. ‘He has to live, Gaius. He is one of my most loyal knights. I cannot lose him.’

‘There is nothing more I can do, my lord. But Seren seems to sooth him.’

‘I will stay with him,’ Seren said.

‘I will check on him later,’ Gaius said. ‘But there really is nothing I can do. Seren, get one of the guards to call me if he worsens.’

 

Left alone with Guiy, Seren continued to stroke his forehead. She whispered reassuring words to him, telling him he would recover, that he would ride again, that he would fight and live and love again. She stroked gentle fingers over his face, exploring the smoothness of his forehead, the dark curve of his eyebrows, the straightness of his long nose, the fullness of his lips, still pale from the blood loss, the dark stubble on his chin, the planes of his cheeks.

When he became agitated, she soothed him, stroking down his arms, feeling the strong muscles, the fine dark hairs. She took hold of his hand and it responded for the briefest moment. She checked on the wound, carefully removing the sorrel leaves. She was pleased to see that it looked no worse, although the edges were still an unnatural green colour.

When she left his side to boil more water, he became a little restless. She began to sing to him to let him know she was still close by and that also seemed to settle him. This gave her time to soak more sorrel leaves and make up more of the paste. She sang of summer days and winter nights, of the first touch of spring sunshine and the first fall of autumn leaves, but stopped abruptly when she pulled back the sheet from his chest. The green edging had spread no further, in fact seemed to have receded a little. Even Guiy’s face looked less pale and he appeared to be sleeping rather than unconscious, his breathing less laboured. She returned to her song as she cleaned off the old paste and replaced it with new, and covered it with the fresh sorrel leaves.

She was still singing when Gaius returned some time later, the candles guttering in their holders. He looked at the wound, puzzled.

‘Is everything well, sir?’ Seren asked, worried.

‘Well? This is unbelievable. The spread of the poison has stopped completely.’

‘It seemed to respond to my singing, Gaius. When I boiled the water he became restless so I sang to him.’

‘Well, I never knew that. Seren, either the poison of the tarasque responds to music, or your voice has magical powers. He is sleeping now, I think you are able to leave.’

‘No, I will stay with him. He may wake.’

When Gaius returned before dawn, it was to find Seren sleeping with her hand holding Guiy’s and her head resting on his arm. He was still sleeping and when Gaius raised the sheet and lifted the sorrel leaves, it was to find the wound was no worse. ‘Incredible,’ Gaius muttered, waking Seren. ‘Look, Seren, incredible. I really did not think he would last the night, that the poison would have taken him. Seren, go and sleep, I will call for you if you’re needed. Thank you.’

Seren was yawning as she returned to her room to find Gwyar waiting for her. The sun had not yet risen and with a start Seren remembered it would be a full moon that night.

‘The drych?’ she asked, sleepily.

‘It has not spoken yet. Sleep now,’ Gwyar instructed her, being practical. ‘The Goddess wants you to succeed. She will find a way for you.’

 

Seren had only been asleep a short time when Gwyar was waking her. She could see the first rays of light at the window. ‘The drych?’ Gwyar nodded. For a moment Seren felt a lurch of hope that the Goddess would choose Gwaine, but he had been away so long he must surely have forgotten her. Briefly, she lingered on Guiy, but then realised that it would not be possible, he was still too ill. ‘Who?’

Gwyar was looking puzzled. ‘I do not know the name.’

‘Who? Who is it?’ Seren was worried. If it was a name unknown to her, what was she supposed to do?

‘Menas?’

‘Oh!’

‘You know him?’

‘He is the brother of the injured knight who was brought in yesterday. He was injured by a tarasque.’

‘So he’s at court, this Menas?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well that is good.’

‘Good for who?’ snapped Seren irritably, pulling a robe around her. ‘I have had little sleep, I have to seduce a man I’ve met only once, and he’s the brother of . . .’ She stopped, She’d been about to say a man she would like to know better, but that was of no account now, she had to seduce his brother.

She returned to the infirmary, Gwyar following. Guiy was more restless than when she had last left him, Gaius and Menas trying to calm him while Arthur and Merlin looked on helplessly.

‘Nothing seems to work, Seren,’ Gaius said, looking exhausted himself. ‘He has started to deteriorate since you left.’

Seren approached the bed and laid a cooling hand on his forehead. At first it was difficult for her to keep contact as he was twisting and turning, the wound across his chest red and angry, the green edging looking more livid. And then she started to sing, the same song as the day before as it had been so successful. The effect was almost instantaneous, Guiy becoming calmer as her voice weaved round the room.

‘Can he be cured?’ Arthur asked.

‘I have been reading, Sire. We need a sample of the poison from the tarasque to completely cure him. Seren’s singing has been keeping the poison at bay, but it is just a temporary measure.’

‘And how far is this beast?’

‘About half a day’s ride, Sire,’ Menas responded. ‘West.’

‘We will prepare to ride,’ Arthur stated, turning to leave.

Seren swallowed hard. Menas would be with them. How on earth would she be able to seduce Menas if they were away looking for the tarasque? It was Gaius who gave her hope.

‘One thing, my lord.’ Gaius caught Arthur’s arm. ‘You would be wise to take the lady Seren with you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because her singing has an influence on the tarasque. And its poison. It could help to calm the creature.’

‘I could come? Anything, my lord,’ Seren said, half rising from her chair in eagerness.

‘Absolutely not,’ said Arthur firmly. ‘It is far too dangerous. I forbid it.’

 ‘But-’ Seren began.

‘No!’ said Arthur, and he walked out of the room, calling for Merlin to follow him.

 

‘Pssst, Merlin!’ Seren was peering round the door to Arthur’s rooms and managed to spot Merlin.

He ushered her back into the corridor and shut the door behind him. ‘I know what you’re going to ask, and the answer’s No.’

‘But I _have_ to come.’

‘You heard what Arthur said.’

Seren stared hard at Merlin. ‘You promised you would help me.’

‘I know, but I’m not going to put your life at risk. You’re too valuable.’

‘I am going whether you help me or not.’

Merlin sighed heavily. ‘What do you want?’

‘A horse, saddled and waiting.’

‘A what?’ Merlin stuttered.

‘Just ask them to saddle up a spare for you and leave it by the main gate or something. Not Fallon, they will recognise her. I can sort out the rest.’

‘Just?’

‘Merlin . . .’ She was glaring at him again.

He held up his hands in surrender. ‘Yes, yes. I will do it.’

‘Thank you,’ and she reached up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying back to her quarters to prepare.

To her surprise, Gwyar took the same stance as Arthur. ‘It is too dangerous, Seren.’

‘But the spell?’

‘This is not right. There must be another way.’

‘There is not. I am going. I can look after myself,’ and she withdrew her own sword from where it had been languishing in the bottom of a chest. ‘Ah, trusty blade. You might get to be used once more.’

‘Seren! You cannot go! I cannot let you!’

‘Gwyar, you know that I must. Now help me pack.’


	16. Chapter 16

 

Within the hour Seren was ready and waiting by the main exit, but it was well after that that the knights eventually set off. Merlin had kept his promise and a sturdy pony had been waiting at the gates for her, fully saddled. She attached her own bags to it and led it down to the river meadow where she could see the main path and the pony, who, according to its halter, was called Primrose was allowed to drink and munch at the fresh green grass.

The sun was on its way to overhead when the knights finally appeared, and Seren waited until they were out of sight over the hill before she followed them. She recognised Arthur, Merlin, Menas, Percival, Leon and Elyan. She had changed into britches, wound up her hair and stuffed it under a boy’s cap, and stowed a warm cloak as the nights could turn chill, but it was with the sun warm on her face that she set off after them.

‘Well, Primrose, just you and me, eh?’ she said, patting the pony’s neck. Seren adjusted the way the sword was hanging at her side, hoping that she would not have to use it. The troop of knights was easy to follow despite them making good speed. Primrose was sure-footed and not averse to a turn of speed when required.

The sun was sinking lower in the sky when they paused as a group and then veered off the main track into a shallow valley. Out of the sun, Seren shivered and dug out the cloak. As the valley widened with woods either side, she saw the men take their horses into the water and allowed them to drink before pressing on towards some woods at the far end of the valley. Seren stopped at a stream and refilled her water bottle, encouraging Primrose to drink from the running water rather than risk being seen in the open river. She pulled her cloak further around her as the valley became darker, tying to keep the knights within sound, if not sight, although their previous banter had reduced considerably.

Eventually she heard Arthur call a halt and the sounds of knights dismounting in the distance. Under cover of this noise, Seren back-tracked some way down the path and headed up the slope. At the back of a flattened area behind some dense bushes she found the opening of a cave and tied Primrose to a tree close by. Sitting in the cave entrance, she cupped her hands, magicked some flames, lit a small fire, took some food out of her pack and sat on her cloak to eat it while she tried to work out a plan. It was getting dark, and she could see the full moon rising, taunting her, but she had no idea how she was going to seduce Menas, and without a plan, she might as well have stayed in Camelot.

There was a noise behind her and a quiet whicker from Primrose. Seren tensed, reaching for her sword. It came again, a low moaning, but not obviously human. She put down her sword and found a stick and wrapped some dried grass around it, lighting it at her fire and then headed carefully into the cave.

In the dim light of her torch, she could see a large bulky object. Until it moved slightly and groaned again. Seren had never seen anything like it before. Larger than a cow, it had a broad feline face and what looked like a shell on its back, its barbed tail curled around it. It moaned again, and Seren could see that it was injured, its hind leg had been bleeding and it was holding it stiffly.

And then it saw Seren and raised itself to its feet and let out an enormous roar. Behind the creature, Seren could see other movement. As she raised the torch higher, she could see smaller fluffy bundles. This tarasque had given birth and was just protecting her young.

Remembering Gaius’s words, she began to sing, soft and low. The tarasque raised its head and looked at her curiously, tilting its head to one side as it listened. Then it sighed as it lowered itself back onto its belly and dropped its head back onto its paws. Immediately the three fluffballs snuggled in to suckle at their mother.

Seren fetched her bags and removed some of the medicines she had brought with her. She could not watch any creature suffer. She approached very slowly, still singing, but the tarasque took very little notice of her, only releasing a whimper as Seren removed the point of a spear that had broken off in her leg. There was another deep sigh as Seren cleaned the wound and placed a poultice on the injured leg. She soothed it, watching the babies, and began talking to it.

‘Shhhh, shhhh, you’ll get better, you’ll heal. But I need something from you. I need some of that poison in your tail. I know you didn’t mean to hurt Sir Guiy, but now I need you to heal him.’ Carefully she lifted the tarasque’s tail. It was stained with its own poison where it oozed from the tip. Carefully she reached for her bag and took out a small bowl. She rested the tarasque’s tail on it and watched the poison slowly drip into it until there was a small puddle in the bottom which she poured carefully into a stoppered flask.

She gave the tarasque one last stroke, checked that the wound was covered, thanked the creature, and backed out of the cave. Straight into the arms of a man.

As the arms gripped her tightly, she started to struggle, giving her captor an elbow in the stomach and a kick in the shins, causing him to loosen his grip on her so she could turn and face him. With the light of the full moon on his face, she recognised him.

‘My lord Menas?’ she asked.

‘Who . . . who are you?’

She took off the cap and let her hair flow freely down her back. ‘It is Seren.’

He immediately released his grip on her and took a step back. ‘Seren? Lady Seren? I apologise, my lady,’ and he attempted a bow, stumbling a little on the rough ground. ‘I hope I did not hurt you.’

‘I will live, I’m sure,’ she said with a grin.

‘You followed us, then, my lady?’

‘Er, yes.’

‘Even though the king forbade it?’

‘Er, yes.’

She could see him smiling. ‘You are very brave, especially as the tarasque must be close by. I was on watch and thought I heard it roar from this direction.’

‘What would you do if you found it, my lord?’

‘Finish what I started before and kill it. It attacked us. I have never seen them in England before, only France. They are very dangerous.’

‘My lord, I have found the tarasque.’

He immediately drew his sword. ‘Where?’

‘Put your sword down,’ she commanded. ‘To kill it is not required.’

‘It is not?’

‘No.’ She held up the flask. ‘I have the poison.’

‘But, how?’

‘Come and meet her.’

‘Her?’

‘Come on. But leave your sword here.’

‘You are certain?’

‘Yes! Now come quietly.’

Seren entered the cave again, singing quietly, Menas holding the torch. The tarasque looked up but seemed calm and allowed Seren to approach. She knelt on the floor beside her and stroked her feline head. ‘See? She’s not dangerous. She was just protecting her pups.’

‘She has pups?’

‘Yes, three, I think. They’re at the back of the cave.’

He raised the torch to spread more light, seeing the tarasque pups asleep, and also noticing that the animal’s leg wound had been attended to. ‘You treated her wound?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I took out the end of the spear. Yours, I presume.’

‘Er, yes. ’

‘Come, we will let her sleep. Sit by the fire with me, my lord, I have a favour to ask.’

‘Anything, my lady, you have the poison to save my brother.’

‘Will you let the tarasque live? And not tell Arthur I was here?’

‘But how will I explain getting the poison?’

‘Perhaps you could say you’d killed the tarasque, and then they’ll stop hunting it.’ 

 He nodded. ‘I think that could work.’

‘You could stay here and say you followed it and then . . . killed it.’

‘You do not approve of the killing?’

‘She is a mother. She was just protecting her young. She does not deserve to die just because some are afraid of her,’ and she sniffed back a sob at the thought of the injured creature.

‘Hey, hey, come here,’ and he threw his arm roughly round her shoulders.

She leaned into him, recognising her opportunity. She barely knew this man but had to seduce him this night. She looked up at him, tears still in her eyes. He looked back at her and then gently stroked away a tear as it crept onto her cheek. After that, it was easy. They locked eyes and his pupils dilated and he was entranced.

It was a magical night out there in the woods under the night sky. He leaned forward and started to kiss her and Seren let him. She started to kiss him back, thinking that, despite the presence of the tarasque, Menas was one of her easiest seductions. She was learning to trust the Goddess, and learning to enjoy the differences between each and every knight she had so far seduced. As she felt Menas respond to her, she indulged herself in letting him make the moves, knowing how this would proceed. He took her face in his hands and she responded by sliding her fingers down his chest and around his waist, relaxing into his warm soft kisses. Until there was the crack of twigs and they leapt apart, both of them reaching for their swords. 


	17. Chapter 17

He nodded down towards the bushes close to the track and Seren followed him over into their protection. She was hoping it was just some of the other knights, perhaps looking for Menas, although it appeared to be from the wrong direction, but by the way Menas was behaving, it appeared not. And then she heard voices, French voices.

Menas took hold of her arm. These were obviously not friends. She made sure that her sword was firmly gripped and indicated to Menas that she was ready to fight. There appeared to be three men, and the only words she caught were the names of Menas and Guiy. She heard Menas hiss displeasure at something the men said, and his body tensed. Seren had the distinct impression that he was going to take on all these men, despite the odds. She wasn’t wrong. As one of the men barked a laugh, Menas forced his way through the bushes and stood on the track facing the three men, releasing a string of invectives.

Seren followed him. She needed him alive, and two against three was considerably better odds. She smiled confidently at an amazed Menas.

‘Seren, go back.’

‘No. I fight.’

One of their opponents said something to her in French, and then realised she did not understand.

‘So, he gets a woman to fight his battles now?’ the tallest of the men sneered.

‘If you have a problem with Menas, you have a problem with me,’ Seren responded. ‘Disarm or death?’ she asked Menas.

‘Death would be too good for this scum,’ Menas responded.

The tall man waved his sword at her, intending to knock hers out of her hand. She responded by easily avoiding his blade and spiking him sharply through his boot and into his foot. He swore loudly and dropped his sword as he hopped around clutching his foot. And then the other two simultaneously attacked Menas. He was pushed back at first, but then held his ground.

Seren observed for a moment, assessing them, and then advanced on the one closest to her. He had no idea how to react to being taken on by a woman, at first just trying to defer her attack, but then realising she was far more skilled than he anticipated. He started to thrust more forcibly, intending to defeat her with his superior strength, but this was her forte. She nimbly avoided his thrusts, knowing that if one hit home, it could finish her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Menas plunge his blade deep into the stomach of his opponent, but the man she had stabbed in the foot had finally retrieved his sword and approached Menas from behind.

‘Menas!’ Seren called, and he turned and caught the tall man with a vicious blow that scythed through his waist and felled him where he stood.

That just left Seren to finish her opponent and, knowing Menas had her back, she put into play the attacks she had honed in her childhood. She almost had a degree of sympathy for the man as she finally pinned him against a tree and, with a blow to the back of his hand with the side of her blade, he was disarmed.

Menas grabbed him by the throat and spoke to him in rapid French. The man flinched, but nodded as much as he could with Menas’s hand gripping him. Menas released him and the man dropped to the ground and crawled away before finding his feet and starting to run away from them.

‘What . . . what did you just say to him, my lord?’

‘I told him that if he breathed a word of this to anyone, it would be known throughout France that he had been defeated by a girl.’

‘A girl?’

‘Well, I can see you are a woman, but he does not need to know that.’

‘Who were they?’

‘Enemies of Camelot.’

It was then that Seren noticed a wound on Menas’s arm. ‘You are hurt, my lord.’

‘I am alive, thanks to you, Lady Seren. Where did you learn to fight like that?’

‘I had good teachers. Now let me see to that arm. Here, sit.’

She led him back to the fire and helped him off with his tunic. The wound was only superficial, but she tenderly cleansed it until he stopped her by turning her face towards his and kissing her. Her heart was still beating rapidly from the fight, but she responded to him, her body roused by their closeness to death. He must have felt the same as suddenly he was tugging at her tunic, almost ripping it from her so that he could crush her breast in his hand, holding her hard against him. She responded eagerly, kissing him hard, biting at his neck, enjoying his almost savage grasping of her body. She undid her britches as he was struggling with his, and before they’d barely had chance to remove their boots, he was laying her down on her own cloak and entered her swiftly in a glorious celebration of their life and sexuality.

Seren realised she was already so aroused that his swift thrusting into was absorbed and then matched by her own pulsing, wanting to feel him hard and harsh, abusing and bruising her body with lust. It felt wonderful, their two bodies bucking in the moonlight and she couldn’t help but groan, but they were lost amongst Menas’s grunting.

And then he withdrew, slapped her on her hip to turn her over and pulled her up onto her knees. Holding her hip with one hand, he guided himself into her from behind and she flung herself down onto her forearms as he inserted his length fully into her, plundering her depths so that she called out with a feral, primeval cry in the moonlight. She felt so wanton, so wonderful, Menas’s pace making her flush, but the night air cool on her naked skin. He was increasing his pace, driving her closer to her orgasm, gripping her firmly to restrict her movements until he removed one hand and slapped her on her bottom. She flung herself forward again with both the shock of the slap and her response as her nerves ignited and burned. He spanked her again and she released a moan of pleasure and pain. On the third slap, she could hold it no longer and her orgasm shuddered through her, triggering his own and he grunted her name as he filled her.

She could barely reach out for the familiar cloud, but felt it condense safely in her hand. He leaned his body forward onto hers, and she could feel him breathing heavily. Her body yearned to be held, to be protected, to be . . . loved.

She cried when he withdrew from her, dressing, retrieving his sword and taking the path away from her, into the darkness, back to the other knights, totally unaware of her presence. She rode back towards Camelot with tears on her face, arriving there late morning with the precious poison to cure Guiy.

 

The knights arrived later that day. Arthur and Merlin went straight down to the infirmary to find Guiy sitting up in the bed.

‘The antidote to the poison is working, Sire,’ Gaius confirmed.

‘But . . . but how did it get here?’ Arthur asked. ‘Menas said he’d sent someone ahead, but could not remember who or how. He seemed very confused.’

Gaius went to speak, but Seren interrupted. ‘One of the pages must have followed Menas. He brought the poison back after Menas killed the tarasque.’

‘He DID kill it? He said he thought he had, but . . . He must have received a blow to the head. Or something. I will send him down to see you, Gaius. However, all seems well with Guiy, and that is the most important thing.’

 

When Menas arrived, he waved away Gaius, stating there was nothing wrong with him, smiled abstractedly at Seren, and then turned his attention to his brother. Seren busied herself with work in the next room. However many times she did this, she still felt the pain of rejection and longed to be able to spend the rest of the night held in a man’s loving embrace.


	18. Chapter 18

 

It was almost a relief that Guiy’s name was revealed in the drych the following full moon. He had recovered sufficiently that Gaius had discharged him from the infirmary and he was in his own quarters, although Gaius had charged Seren with checking on the wound and continuing to apply the healing salve.

As the days progressed, she spent less time treating him and more time talking to him. A few years younger than Menas, it was Guiy who had persuaded Menas and their father to align their kingdom in France with Arthur and Camelot. He told her of battles and skirmishes, deeds of daring, and finally, the tarasque.

‘We were on our way to Camelot with some news for the king when we were searching for somewhere to camp for the night. We must have disturbed it then as it attacked. My horse was scared and reared. The tarasque responded and while I was trying to control my horse, it caught me with its tail. I do not remember anything until waking up to see you.’ He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Thank you.’

She had to remember that he did not know about her part in retrieving the tarasque’s poison and was merely thanking her for her assistance in the infirmary. However, it made it incredibly easy to seduce him. She waited until sunset before going to his room. She had seen him earlier in the day returning to training and had waved and smiled at him as she had walked past the training ground towards Gaius’s laboratory.

‘How are you feeling tonight?’ she asked.

‘A little stiff,’ he replied.

Seren suppressed a smile. ‘Here, let me see the wound.’

He pulled off his tunic and she took in the lean lines of his tanned torso. He walked over to the bed and lay down so she could check it.

‘You need to be careful not to break the wound, my lord,’ she said as she smoothed in the salve. He shrugged his shoulders to ease their stiffness. ‘Here, come and sit on this chair.’

He acquiesced and she stood behind him, taking some oil and rubbing the palms of her hands together to warm them. She rested her hands on his shoulders and then began to massage him, easing the tension way from his shoulders. Her fingers squeezed the firm muscles and he released a small moan of pleasure. She concentrated just on his shoulders, but then moved up his neck and then down over to the tops of his arms. She could see him visibly relaxing under her fingers. All except one part of his body. The Goddess had made this very easy for her.

She started to slide her hands over his chest muscles, feeling the gentle bump of his nipples respond to the touch of her fingers. She slid them down over his chest, across towards his arms, then up and back on to his shoulders, smoothing out the muscles. Until he stopped her hands with her own and turned to look up at her, his pupils dilating.

The next stage was easy. He turned as he stood and started to kiss her. She led him to the bed and sat with him. He tentatively stroked her neck, kissing her, and then down over her body. She ran light fingers over his smooth muscles, relaxing into his touch. She undressed him and then herself and watched him as he watched her. He was breathing deeply as his eyes travelled down and then back up her body. He reached out for her hand and led her back to the bed, his manhood standing proud and ready for her. He lay her down and stood over her, his gaze arousing her as much as his touch had earlier.

When he joined her on the bed, he started by stroking down over her body. She stretched up, taking hold of the curling intricacy of the headboard, flexing her body towards his.

‘Oh Seren, you know what I like?’

‘I do?’ She wasn’t sure what he was talking about. All she’d done was stretch and hold onto the bed.

‘Can I . . . can I bind you?’ he asked, the muscles in his face twitching as he prayed for her answer. ‘I will not hurt you.’

‘I am yours to command, my lord,’ she replied.

He peeled himself from the bed and returned with some soft leather belts. He threaded one through the intricate fretwork of the headboard and then tightened it around her wrists binding them together. The other two he used to tie her ankles to the bottom corner posts. And then he stood back and observed her.

His erection, which had subdued somewhat while he was concentrating on the bonds sprang rapidly upwards. Seren swallowed and wondered how she was supposed to behave.

‘My lord, what will you do with me?’

‘Lady Seren, I intend to make love to you until you beg for mercy.’

‘Oh!’ she squeaked, already feeling the moistness between her legs.

He leaned over her and did nothing but kiss her gently on the lips, but her body responded to that smallest of touches causing her to writhe on the bed, pulling against the ties. She was grateful for them, giving her something to react to as she pulled against them, as Guiy was not providing it. Yet.

He kissed softly over her forehead, down her nose, paused again on her lips, then on to her chin and round to her neck. She could smell the sweetness of his hair and the masculinity of his skin as he leaned in close to her and she wanted him to touch her, to hold her firmly, but he made her wait. Oh how he made her wait.

He kissed along her shoulder than back along her collar bone, repeating it on the other side. She couldn’t help but squirm, she so desperately wanted to feel his hardness against her, in her. She could see this beautifully formed cock rearing upwards, and she wanted to feel it pushing inside her, moving within her. She watched as he kissed towards her breasts and pushed them up to meet his mouth. As he twined his tongue around one nipple, he mirrored his movements with his fingers on the other.

She could feel the softness of his hair as it swept across her breast, even as her nipples responded to the touch of his fingers and lips. Her skin felt so incredibly sensitive, even the parts he was not touching could sense any movement of air in the room, any chill, any breeze.

Seren closed her eyes all the better to focus on his touch. He started to suck one nipple as he squeezed and gently tugged the other and she could already feel her emotions swelling within her, so soon. She was aware of the roughness of his tongue as he strafed her nipple, playing with it with his lips, his tongue, his teeth, reflecting this with the touch of his fingers and fingernails on the other, the slightest of movements creating such extreme reactions that she was struggling to keep still enough for him.

She started to whimper, but he ignored her and continued to focus on her breasts and nipples while she stretched against the bonds. After what seemed like an eternity, he released her nipples and started to kiss down over her stomach. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the agony of anticipation of his next move, or the absence of him from her nipples.

He moved down the bed, trailing fingertips lightly over her skin, over her thighs, as his lips moved closer to her femininity. But, to her frustration, he kissed past that and down her leg, over her thighs, alternating between her legs, licking circles around her knees, then down her shins to her toes. She felt his tongue slide between each toe, sucking each one individually, first on one foot, then the other. She was clinging to the belt that tied her wrists, anchoring herself with it to keep her body pressed against the bed.

When he started to kiss back up her legs, she could hardly bear it, opening her legs even wider to encourage him between them, but he did not react to her wantonness, making her wait. As his hair touched her pubis she was so shocked she cried out. She froze, stiff with anticipation, and when his nose pressed gently against her swollen bud, she felt bolts of lightning shoot through her body, her nerves tingling to her extremities. She lost control completely at the touch of his tongue and, fingers clinging to the leather of the belt, she bucked her hips up against him. But this did not deter his plan, he merely gripped her firmly by the hips and plunged his face hard up against her femininity so that his could strafe her bud with his tongue more accurately.

As she held firmly onto the belts, her arms crushed against her face, she realised she was actually crying with her craving for him. She needed him to enter her, to fulfil her. It was only when she cried out his name that he responded to her, climbing up the bed to kneel over her and look directly down on her face. She opened her eyes wide to him.

‘Seren?’ he whispered.

‘Oh Guiy.’

‘What is it? What do you want?’

‘I . . . I want you to be inside me.’

‘You do? You think you are ready for me?’

‘Ohhhh.’ Her body involuntarily shook with longing.

He must have taken that as a Yes as she saw him smile. And then she felt him pushing against the warmth and wetness of her entrance. Not inside her immediately, but pressing at the entrance to make her wait even further. But she could not. She pushed her body hard against his, opening her legs wider and then the wonderful hotness and width of him as he finally plunged into her.

Seren’s body went into ecstasy as he drove into her. Her focus was entirely on his movements as she pulled against the bindings. He paused after the first thrust and she cried out, begging him to continue. He withdrew oh so slowly, and Seren whimpered with longing. And then it seemed that Guiy finally lost control and began to plunge fully into her, harder and deeper with each thrust. Seren was pushed over the edge into immediate orgasm, her body in raptures as he’d built up to this point and did not let her down.

She absorbed him so totally, letting him plunder her as her orgasm flooded through her, her body shaking with lust as her thrust into her and withdrew leaving her wanting more. She could not help herself, she cried out his name, bucking and thrusting against him as wildly as she could within the taughtness of the bonds. And as he climaxed and released his essence, he called out her name in response.

As he covered her with his own body, she longed to reach out and hold him. His arms held her close and he stayed like that for some minutes before the entrancement was broken and he stood, perfunctorily untying the belts as though removing them from his own clothes. He put them away tidily, her presence entirely unknown to him. For a moment she panicked, thinking she had missed the bead as her hands had been tied, but it was resting safely on the pillow, waiting for her, a soft tawney-leather brown, the colour of the bonds he has used.

She dressed and returned to her rooms, seeking the sanctuary of her own bed before Gwyar returned. Gwyar checked that she was well, but let Seren sleep, although could not help but notice the redness and bruising around her wrists.

 


	19. Chapter 19

Seren was making the most of the glorious sunshine and had gone in search of some willow leaves and watercress. Strolling down to a quiet part of the river, the sun hot on her shoulders, she was practising a new song she was hoping to sing that evening. Carefully picking her way along the stream to the watercress bank, she picked several handfuls, and then followed the water down to the river and the willow trees.

She heard a noise and a few minutes later, a horse clambered up the bank and headed towards her, shaking river water from his mane.

‘Gringolet!’ she said in surprise, calling the horse towards her, her heart already beginning to pound. ‘Is your master here?’

She led Gringolet back towards the river and then paused at the top of the bank when she realised why Gringolet was there. Gwaine was in the river bathing. His clothes were draped over a nearby bush. She knew she shouldn’t have watched, but she was unable to leave, her eyes were drawn to him. He flicked his hair out of his eyes as he stood and Seren’s eyes followed down the smooth muscles of his back and the round muscular curve of his buttocks, his thighs firm as he balanced himself in the slow-flowing water. He washed himself thoroughly, the water streaming over him while Seren observed silently.

Until Gringolet decided to let his presence be known. As Gwaine turned to call to his horse, he found himself looking directly at Seren. Excruciatingly embarrassed, she hid her face in Gringolet’s mane. By the time she turned to glance again, Gwaine had wrapped his cloak around his waist and was climbing the bank towards her.

‘My lady,’ he bowed, but could not keep the smile from his lips.

‘My lord,’ and she bobbed a formal curtsey.

‘The view is good from here?’ he asked.

‘I was bringing Gringolet back,’ Seren started to explain, but then realised that nothing she could say would make the slightest difference and broke into a grin.

‘If it was anyone else . . .’

‘You would have stayed in the river?’

‘Very possibly.’

‘And there is something wrong with the bathing facilities in the castle?’

‘Nothing at all, but when Gringolet needs to bathe, I feel duty bound to join him. We have been on the road a long time and there is something rather exhilarating about the fresh air and cool water. You should try it.’

‘My lord!’ but he was laughing at her.

‘Have you not missed me, my lady?’

‘Of course! It has been very quiet without you. I thought you would have forgotten me.’

‘Never!’

‘How fares your home?’

He shrugged, the smile disappearing. ‘It does not seem like home now. This feels like coming home. Or it would if . . .’

His eyes were searching her face, hoping for a response, but she could not give one. ‘I should be getting back to Gaius,’ she added reluctantly. ‘He will be waiting.’

‘But there is a penalty to pay for your observations, my lady,’ he said, the smile returning.

‘There is?’

‘One kiss,’ and he stepped forward and for the first time, their lips met. Just the closeness of him had already heightened her senses, the touch of his lips on hers triggered a response that was far beyond her expectations.

As they parted, she tried to bring her emotions back under control. ‘That was a very high price, my lord,’ and she frowned sternly at him.

‘Are you suggesting it was not worth it?’

‘I must go back,’ and she forced herself to turn her back on him and head in the direction of the castle.

Later that afternoon, she was working with Merlin, carefully preparing some ingredients for Gaius.

‘You’re very quiet,’ Merlin commented.

‘Life’s complicated, isn’t it?’

‘Generally I find life’s pretty simple, it’s people who are complicated.’

She sniffed a laugh. ‘You could well be right.’

‘So . . . who is it?’

‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘I can be very understanding, Seren.’ He was watching her carefully, and she put down the pestle and mortar, leaning on the work bench. ‘Want to tell me about it?’ She shook her head. ‘Hey, come here,’ and he folded her into her arms in a hug.

This was how Gaius found them. He said nothing as they sprang apart and returned to their work, but kept a fatherly eye on them both.

 

‘Gaheris?’ Seren asked on the morning of the full moon, wishing desperately it was his older brother, now that he was back in Camelot. ‘But he is so young!’

‘He is older than you, Seren, and so is Gareth,’ Gwyar replied with a smile. ‘But I know you are used to older. Anyway, he has never been short of female company since he’s been at Camelot.’

‘That’s usually because he hangs round the kitchen maids.’

‘The kitchen more likely. He has a good appetite, that one. Bodes well for you,’ she grinned.

Seren settled herself in the kitchen by the blazing fire. She had learned to trust that the Goddess would provide the opportunity and this time she was not wrong. It was late and the rest of the castle was sleeping, but Seren remained patiently seated. And then she heard footsteps in the kitchen corridor and a tall, dark man entered the room and headed towards the stores.

‘Sir Gaheris?’ she said in the darkness.

He paused and then changed direction, bowing before her. ‘Lady Seren. You look beautiful tonight.’

She smiled up at Gaheris. ’You are hungry, my lord?’

‘I came to see if there was any of that chicken left over. Would you like some?’

‘A taste maybe.’

Gaheris disappeared into the cold store and returned with a plate. He flung himself onto the floor next to Seren, all loose limbed and relaxed. He selected a particularly juicy strip and held it up to her. She closed her lips around it and took it gently from his fingers. He found her another morsel and held it up for her. As she took it from him, she made sure she took his fingers slightly into her mouth. He looked up at her and his pupils widened. She took hold of his hand and began to suck at his fingers, caressing her tongue between them, twining round them. She kissed across the tips, and then he knelt up to kiss her. She allowed him, enjoying his enthusiasm for her. It wasn’t long before his hands were starting to roam over her body.

‘Oh Seren,’ he whispered. ‘I want to see you naked.’

‘Do you, sir?’ she asked. ‘And would you know what to do with me if I was naked?’

‘Oh yes, my lady.’

‘And what is that?’

‘I want to smother you in whipped cream and lick it from you.’

 ‘You have my permission,’ she smiled back.

‘Really? Oh lord,’ and he disappeared back to the cold store.

While he was gone, she dropped her dress to the floor and stood in the firelight completely naked. Gaheris paused in front of her and Seren could see him take in her body. Slowly he walked towards her carrying a tray. She lowered herself onto the rug by the fireplace and lay on her back, getting comfortable. Gaheris knelt next to her and held up a marrow. Seren recoiled in horror. Laughing, he put it to one side and took a bowl of whipped cream. He began to use it to draw shapes on her naked body with his fingers, smiling as he did so.

‘This is a rabbit,’ he said, adding a pair of ears and a tail to an oval-shaped dollop. ‘And this is a . . . erm . . . cloud?’ He looked up to see her smiling at him, but then leaned down and licked off the cream with delicious swirls of his tongue. He covered her breasts, and then picked up another of the bowls.

‘Do you know what I want to do to you now?’ he asked. Seren shook her head. ‘I want to eat strawberries from your breasts and raspberries from your cunny,’ he said mischievously.

‘Gaheris!’ she chastised, but he merely laughed and took some strawberries from one of the other bowls. Very carefully, concentrating completely on what he was doing, he began to balance the strawberries on her breasts, nestling them into the whipped cream and making sure they were standing in a neat line.

He took one, bit into it, and then started to circle one of her nipples, streaking around it with the juice of the strawberry, swirling the cream. He leaned forward and licked the juice and cream from her, leaving her skin tingling and her nipple hardening. He ran the fruit over her skin and then followed it with his tongue, lapping and sucking at her nipples. Occasionally he would break away from her breasts and kiss her mouth, leaving the taste of strawberries and cream on her lips. And then one hand slid over her stomach to between her legs and he started to stroke her, sucking her nipples at the same time.

She lifted her knees, parting her legs, moaning as he stroked over her bud and then back into her. He kissed down her body and then moved to between her legs. His fingers gently stroked along the inside of her thigh, tracing tiny circles and he watched her for a few moments. ‘You really are beautiful,’ he said. She twitched a smile and shrugged. ‘Marry me,’ he said.

‘What? No! I mean, no, I can’t marry you. I am promised to the Goddess.’

‘So you cannot marry?’

‘My life is hers to decide.’

‘That would explain why Gwaine has been so cranky.’

‘Gwaine?’

‘You can’t say you don’t know what he feels for you, my lady.’

‘We are just . . . friends, Gaheris. And I would prefer it if we did not speak of your brother while we are . . .’

He sniffed with amusement. ‘A valid point, my lady. Now, where was I?’ And he buried his face between her legs, licking and sucking, her skin tingling with his touch until he withdrew and reached for another bowl. Carefully he opened her with his fingers, parting her, and then inserted a single raspberry into her. She could feel it cold against her hot moist lips, and then his own tongue licking round them, then extracting the fruit from her, sucking at her hard. He pressed in more of the fruits, deliberately squashing them into her so that the juices flooded her and then he pressed his face hard against her and spent what seemed like forever licking into her and around her.

Seren was incredibly aroused by the magic his tongue was creating inside her, licking and strafing her, sucking and tugging at her. And then he leaned back and undid his trousers, tugging off his tunic and shirt and then kissed up her body. His lips were warm and soft against hers, but his hardness was sufficient that Seren had to part her legs wide to accommodate him as he lifted her hips towards him. He was pushing at her entrance, and then sliding deliciously into her. He paused at the peak, looking down at her, breathing hard, and then he began to withdraw and started pumping and thrusting enthusiastically.

Seren found herself surprisingly aroused by this basic but eager man. What he lacked in skill, he made up for in enthusiasm. ‘Oh Seren,’ he whispered. ‘Oh Seren, you are so gorgeous, so lovely, so perfect,’ and then he lowered his body onto hers, squashing the remaining strawberries between them, rolling her over so he was now on his back with her astride him. She stretched up, the cream and juices glistening in the light of the fire and began to rub the mixture into her skin, stroking up over her breasts, tweaking her own nipples as he watched her, a look of awe upon his face. He reached up a hand and placed it over hers, squeezing against her breast so that the juices oozed out between her fingers. She removed her hand and began to suck at her fingers, all the while riding on his erection, feeling the response of his hips under her as he undulated, pushing himself deeper inside her, and she found her emotions spreading through her, flooding along her limbs so that she stretched out luxuriously, leaning back.

‘Oh Seren, you are so beautiful, so magical, so mysterious. The Goddess is truly blessed with you as a servant.’

He pulled her towards him so that he could focus on her breasts, stroking them as he moved within her with a languid rhythm. She was enjoying this, the gentleness of him, the concentration on his face as he focused so completely on her body, the gentle touch of his fingers caressing and stroking her. And then he looked up at her, took hold of her hips and began to increase his pace, driving her own orgasm onward to meet his. She was looking directly into Gaheris’s face as she came, releasing the smallest of gasps but her muscles tightening around him so that he groaned in pleasure and released his essence into her care, a bright strawberry-red bead.

 

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

The message to attend the chamber of the Round Table arrived while Seren was bathing. She pulled on a dress and hurried down to the room off the main hall. The knights were already seated, along with Arthur and Guinevere. Seren sought out Merlin and joined him.

‘What is it?’ she whispered.

‘I do not know, but it must be serious.’

Arthur stood and began to pace the room. ‘Sir Bennet has brought word that King Iustig has raised an army and is about to invade Camelot.’

There was hushed whispering around the table and Seren took a step closer to Merlin. She shivered a little and he put his arm around her. ‘This is what he threatened, isn’t it? Because of me and Nia?’ she whispered.

Merlin nodded. ‘It would seem so.’

Arthur continued with the little detail they knew. She was listening, but her eyes kept returning to where Gwaine was sitting with Percival to his left and his two brothers to his right. Gwaine’s eyes were focused on Arthur, following him with a serious face as Arthur paced the room. The army was about three days ride away so they had little time to prepare. He was instructing the various knights as to their responsibilities and finally looked over to where Merlin, Seren and Gauis were standing.

‘It is good that Gwyar is away from the castle. Gaius, you will have responsibility for any injuries. Merlin will assist you,’ Gaius and Merlin both nodded in ascent. ‘Seren, would you also help?’ She curtseyed her agreement.

 

The castle was a hive of activity after Arthur’s announcement. Seren immediately set to work preparing for the battle, ensuring material was torn into strips and boiled in preparation for bandages, that medicines were prepared, especially those to stop blood loss, that there was wood for splints, and then assisted Merlin in moving beds and cots into the dormitories adjacent to the main infirmary.

Once they had finished, she stood with Merlin and they looked around their domain. Each of the beds and cots was made up with fresh sheets, the store was full of boiled cloths and bandages, the medicines sorted and ready to use. Gauis came over.

‘Thank you both. I have made up plenty of sedative which I have unfortunately found to be useful for both the living and the dying. I shall tell the King we are prepared.’

‘The infirmary might be ready, Merlin, but I am not, Seren said. 'I am scared. What is the point of this war?’

Merlin shrugged. ‘I will never understand why peace is such a bad thing.’ He walked Seren away from Gaius. ‘If . . . if you use your powers, no one, and I mean no one, must see you.’

‘I understand. But we . . .?’

‘Do everything you can, Seren. Everything.’

‘Will you not be here?’

He shook his head. ‘I must protect the king. I must be with Arthur.’

 

It was at dawn of the third day when Iustig’s army arrived within sight of Camelot. Seren and Merlin joined Guinevere and Arthur on the battlements. In the distance they could see the flags and fires of Iustig’s camp, and the long line of horsemen and soldiers. Seren sought out Merlin’s hand and grasped it tight.

‘You will be careful,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to be treating you in the infirmary.’

‘There could be worse ways to end a battle,’ he smiled, trying to cheer her up.

They watched as a lone horseman carrying Iustig’s flag, a black bull on a white background. Arthur was expecting this and sent out his own horseman to meet him. Seren recognised Geraint and ran to the front of the battlements to watch him ride towards Iustig’s representative, the king’s banner of the golden dragon on the red background carried high and proud.

As the two horsemen approached, Seren could feel everyone tense. They stopped, the two horses alongside each other as the two men spoke. The conversation was not a long one, the opponent wheeling his horse away from Geraint and heading back to his camp. Geraint remained where he was for a few moments before heading slowly back to Camelot. It did not look good.

Seren watched Geraint deliver the news to Arthur. He was shaking his head and she saw Arthur’s drop. This must be war. It was just a matter of when, not if.

Arthur came down to the infirmary. There was no specific reason why he was there but he seemed to take some comfort from the presence of Gaius. Merlin and Seren were both there and made to leave, but he indicated that they should stay.

Seren poured him some wine and he sipped at it. ‘I feel that the responsibility for this war lies with me, Sire,’ she said.

‘It was just a convenient reason. It seems the only reason he came in peace last time was to assess Camelot’s defences. He was merely looking for an excuse.’

‘And I gave that to him.’

He smiled grimly up at her. ‘This would have happened without you or Nia, Seren. He told Geraint that I was a pox on the face of the country and therefore it was only right I should be removed.’

‘You were lucky you sent Geraint.’

‘True. Gwaine would most likely have run him through immediately.’

‘Sire, you have right on your side.’

‘What I need is strength, not right. He outnumbers us five to one.’

‘But you have Camelot and the love and respect of your people.’

‘I just hope that is enough. Gaius, are you prepared down here?’

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘Let us hope your services will not be required.’

‘Why do you not just remain in Camelot, my lord?’

‘Because their man told Geraint that they had enough forces just to sit this out and we would not be able to defend ourselves for long enough. And, as you know, they are expert miners as well as warriors, and said they would undermine Camelot’s very foundations. No, we must take them on face to face. And we must win.’

 

It was dawn of the next day when Iustig’s army started to approach Camelot. Arthur gave the command and his forces moved forward. Seren stood on the battlements and watched them move forward. There was the steady beat of the drum to set the pace and then the clouds of dust sent up by the horses’ hooves. With a roar, Arthur’s army began to charge towards the opposition, the Pendragon banner held aloft, red cloaks trailing behind the knights.

At the first clash, Seren looked away. She could not watch. The casualties would arrive soon enough and she wanted to make sure she was ready.

One of the first men to arrive in the infirmary, although it was some considerable time later, was Guiy. His clothes were blood-stained and there were heavy gashes on both his legs and one arm, which he was holding against himself.

‘You again?’ she accused, covering her concern.

‘My apologies, my lady. It was not my choice.’

‘How goes it out there?’

‘Too early to tell. Now patch me up so I can return.’

‘You will do no such thing!’

‘Seren, this is war. If I do not go back, Arthur’s plans may fail.’

She bathed the wounds, and under the guise of bandaging the wounds, muttered an incantation over them which would numb the pain and aid the healing process.

‘Be careful, my lord,’ she said as he prepared to return to the battlefield.

‘Thank you, Seren,’ and he gave her a kiss full on her mouth. ‘To give me something more to fight for,’ he added.

She attended to more of the wounded as they arrived, careful to use magic in only the worst cases or before they were seen by anyone else. At one point, two more of the knights arrived, identifiable only by their red cloaks initially, Gaheris and Elyan. She immediately set to work cleansing their wounds. Gaheris had been struck on the head, but there were few other injuries and, once rested, would mend completely. Sir Elyan, on the other hand, was of more concern. He had been stabbed in the back and the blade was still broken inside him.

‘Gaius!’ she called, as Elyan was placed face down onto one of the beds. She tried to staunch the blood around the blade’s entrance with clean sheets, but it was trickling steadily from him.

‘We must remove the blade,’ Gaius said, ‘but I can barely see it.’

‘Hold him still, Gaius. I will see what I can do.’ She placed her hands either side of the wound and her eyes flashed amber. Very slowly the blade began to rise out of Elyan’s ebony skin. Gaius was watching her carefully, and, as the majority of the blade was exposed, took it and withdrew the final part. Seren immediately closed the skin together and seared it with her magic.

‘My lady, I had no idea. You know . . .’

‘Yes, Gauis, I know.’

‘Does anyone else . . .?’

‘Gwyar, of course, and Merlin. He told me to be careful.’

‘He was right.’

‘You . . . you won’t say anything, will you?’

‘Of course not! You are what you are. I’m afraid that Arthur has seen too much evil done in the name of magic to trust it. Yet.’

After Gaheris and Elyan, there came a steady stream of injured soldiers, but no more of the knights. Word was that Arthur was having the better of the battle, with several explosions appearing to have destroyed part of the opposition and their territory, but Seren was far too busy to keep track. It was tiring work, and she kept her magic to a minimum, using it only when it would not be noticed or was desperately needed.

The battle continued all day and Seren worked tirelessly. It was as the sun began to sink that Arthur put into action one of his plans and the final surge pushed back Iustig’s troops so they eventually turned and fled. This final rout was not without its casualties, with a large number being brought in as the torches in the infirmary were refreshed.

‘You again!’ Seren declared as Guiy was delivered to the same bed he had left only hours before.

‘I couldn’t keep away,’ he said, trying to smile, but his face becoming suddenly pale and he collapsed back on the bed. ‘Here, get this chainmail off him,’ she instructed two of the assistants. Once he was undressed and under a white sheet that was rapidly colouring with blood, she began to examine his wounds. The worst was on his stomach where he had been caught with a spiked weapon of some kind which had mashed the skin and bruised him internally. This was not good.

She checked that no one else could see and began the strongest incantation she knew. She stroked her fingers over the wound, watching it start to heal and knit. The blood flow began to slow and eventually stopped. Just as she thought that her work may be coming to an end, there was a flurry of activity near the door and a stretcher was brought in, a burgundy cloak trailing on the floor, smearing the blood that was dripping from the person on it.

Whoever it was was accompanied by both Arthur and Merlin. Merlin immediately left his side as Gaius took responsibility for the stricken man. He took hold of Seren’s elbow and steered her into a corner. ‘It’s Gwaine,’ he said, his face tense with concern. ‘He’s badly hurt, and the weapon must have been enchanted, but Arthur won’t leave his side so I can’t do anything. Help me, Seren. He’s dying.’

 


	21. Chapter 21

 

Gaius was searching for her when she approached. ‘Seren! Quickly!’

She hurried over to the bedside. Gwaine had been stripped and covered in clean sheeting, but the blood was already seeping through. Arthur was pacing alongside the bed, a muscle twitching in his cheek, a bloody Excalibur still gripped in his hand.

‘Arthur, please, leave us to deal with this,’ Gauis said desperately.

‘I will not leave his side. He saved my life. I want to be there if . . .’ His jaw was so tensed that he could barely speak. But they needed him to be gone.

‘My lord, is the day ours?’ Seren asked.

‘Yes, thanks to this man here,’ Arthur replied.

‘Please,’ she said gently, ‘leave Gwaine with us and speak to the people of Camelot. They need you as well,’ and she indicated the room set aside for the dead. ‘Gaius, Merlin and I will deal with Gwaine, my lord. We will send word if . . . if anything changes.’

Arthur was finally persuaded and swept out of the infirmary. Merlin pulled some makeshift curtains around and stood with Seren opposite Gaius over Gwaine’s body. Gaius slowly drew back the sodden sheet to expose a body bruised and cut, but there was one major wound. Seren recoiled in horror. The gash was deep across his stomach, the blood pulsing ominously from the wound despite the poultice that had been applied. Gwaine was worryingly still, but there was a blotchy redness that was creeping up his body from the wound. This was no ordinary injury.

‘Oh!’

‘Seren, keep calm. We can do this. We must.’

Merlin was tapping the tips of his fingers together. ‘If he was out like this in the tavern, I’d just throw a bucket of cold water over him.’

‘Merlin!’ Gaius said.

‘Sorry,’ but Seren knew that Merlin was jesting to cover how worried he was about Gwaine.

Seren took a deep breath and flexed her fingers in readiness. This was going to take all the magic she had. She looked to Gaius for guidance.

‘You start with the wound, Seren. Merlin, you and I will take on the fever. Or whatever it is.’

Seren took hold of her own recipe tincture and began to paste it at the base of the wound. She sang the incantation, the sound low and sweet as she tried to heal the wound. But there appeared to be no improvement, the skin refused to bind and the blood still flowed.

‘Gaius, this isn’t working,’ she said, looking up at him in pain.

‘Keep trying, Seren,’ was all he said.

She leaned over the wound, her voice breaking as she continued to sing, but no response. He could not die. She would not let him die, this brave, beautiful man. But the rise and fall of his chest was slowing, his breathing more shallow. The redness had spread to the top of his chest, over his collar bones and onto his neck. He would not last much longer despite her ministrations and those of Merlin and Gauis. Tears flowed down her cheeks and before she could stop them, dripped onto the wound.

There was a hissing sound and a puff of steam rose from Gwaine’s skin which was revealed as a healthy looking pink as compared to the surrounding blotchy redness. Seren dripped some more tears onto the wound with the same result. Her relief was palpable and she had no problem allowing the tears to flow freely. She continued to breathily sing, her voice breaking with emotion as she worked up the wound, not even pausing to collect the tears, just allowing them to fall directly onto him.

Merlin and Gaius stood back and allowed her to progress up the wound, using her fingers to draw the edges back together. The redness was also receding, his skin returning at first to pink and then back to the natural tan gained from training without shirts in the summer sun. It was as though the wound had never happened.

As the final tip of the wound was healed, Seren stood back. Gaius and Merlin were both looking at her. There was no trace of the wound that had been bleeding profusely a short while earlier. Gwaine’s skin was now smooth to the touch with no hint of a scar and his breathing was deep and slow. It was Merlin who said what they were all thinking. ‘This is going to take some explaining.’

‘Let us treat the rest of his wounds, bandage him and keep him sedated,’ Gaius said. ‘If there is any explaining to do to Arthur, I will do it. Merlin, go and fetch Arthur. He will want to know about Gwaine. Seren, help me bandage him.’

Arthur arrived and looked almost disbelievingly at Gwaine who was sleeping peacefully. ‘But . . . I . . . I thought he was dead, for certain,’ he said, looking closely at Gaius.

‘He was lucky,’ Gaius replied. ‘We caught him just in time.’

‘There was magic involved?’ Arthur asked directly.

‘We believe the wound was enchanted, my lord,’ Gaius replied carefully.

Arthur opened his mouth to ask another question, but appeared to think better of it. He probably did not want to know the answer, Seren concluded. Instead, he merely nodded. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. He patted Gwaine’s arm and then turned to leave.

They all breathed a sigh of relief at Arthur’s exit.

‘Seren, keep Gwaine sedated,’ Gauis instructed. ‘We will call you if we need you for any other patients. Come, Merlin.’

She sat with Gwaine, watching his face, calm in sleep, but still the furrows between his brows, his life etched on his features. Occasionally her assistance was needed with other patients, but none of them had any enchantments attached to their injuries. There were some they simply could not save, their spirits already promised or departed to the care of whatever god they believed in. Seren cried bitter tears over each and every one of them, wishing them a safe passage to their eternal rest.

They were all exhausted, sleeping in only fitful bursts. At one point Gauis fell asleep at the work bench and Seren was alerted by the acrid smell that his hair had fallen into the burner he was using to heat the potions. She quickly put it out but frowned at Gaius.

‘You cannot stay like that,’ she said. ‘Where are the scissors?’

‘There is no point, my lady.’

‘There is every point. It is about time you had a decent hair cut.’

Gaius made to protest but then changed his mind with a smile. ‘Feel free,’ he said.

She trimmed several inches off his hair, standing back and admiring her handiwork. ‘Much better,’ she said. ‘You look ten years younger.’ However, the following morning, she was horrified to see that his hair was back to its previous length. ‘Gaius!’ she said. ‘What . . . What happened?’

‘It was a curse,’ he replied. ‘You think I WANT my hair to look like this?’

‘But?’

‘It is a long story, my lady, but do not place a bet with the Witch of the Dark Woods if you cannot afford to lose.’

 

When she was not required, she returned to sit with Gwaine. Occasionally he would become restless as though caught up in some disturbing dream. He would throw the sheet from him revealing his nakedness and sometimes his arousal, and Seren half hoped he was dreaming of her as she gave him more sedative. On other occasions he merely stirred and frowned and Seren stroked his forehead back to calmness. ‘Sleep, my lord, sleep,’ she said. He smiled briefly and returned to silent slumber.

His brothers came to visit, sitting quietly by his bedside looking worried until Seren reassured them he would make a full recovery. Seeing the three of them together made her realise how similar in appearance they were, although they looked so much younger than Gwaine, his handsome face showing a life well-lived.

From talking to the other patients, Seren began to piece together the events of the battle. It had been evenly matched for the majority of the day, but then Iustig had released what most described merely as a demon or a monster on Arthur’s army. It was a fearsome creature, towering over the men, even those on horseback, swinging a mighty axe in one hand, a giant club in the other, scattering men before him. Most were agile enough to avoid the axe, but it explained the number of bruising blows they had treated as Arthur’s men had tried to bring down the demon.

However, she only learnt of Gwaine’s fate from Arthur himself. He had taken to visiting Gwaine in the early evening, but as there was no change in Gwaine’s condition, Seren felt it was more for a little peace and solitude than anything else.

‘You look tired, Sire,’ she said on the fourth day after the battle. She fetched him some wine and he sipped it gratefully.

‘I am having to make some difficult decisions, Seren.’

‘The prisoners?’ she prompted.

‘If they will not accept the laws of Camelot and me as their king, then . . .’ He pursed his lips.

‘You are a fine king, Sire. Needs must you make difficult decisions.’

‘That is what Guinevere said.’

‘She was right. Which is why you deserved to win the battle.’

‘We very nearly did not, Seren.’

‘My lord?’

‘The demon they unleashed was meant for me. It . . . it had some power over me, I could not move. It would have slain me where I stood if it had not been for Gwaine. He threw himself in front of me, breaking its gaze.’ He paused and Seren could see him trying to control his emotions before he looked up at her. ‘Thank you for saving him.’

‘It was not just me, my lord.’

He flickered a smile at her. ‘Whatever you say, Seren.’ He stood and sighed. ‘Oh well, back to work.’

Gaius decided that it was time to let Gwaine waken. ‘He may be confused when he wakes,’ he warned Seren and Merlin. He dribbled a little liquid into Gwaine’s mouth. Gwaine swallowed and then frowned. He blinked open his eyes and then focused on Seren.

‘I’m in heaven?’ he croaked.

Seren smiled at him. ‘You’re in the infirmary,’ she replied.

He reached up stiff fingers to her face. ‘Looks like heaven from where I am.’

She took hold of his hand and pressed it against her cheek. ‘Welcome back, Sir Gwaine.’

‘Well, he appears to be unchanged by his experience,’ Gaius muttered drily.

‘Experience?’ Gwaine asked.

‘A blow to the head,’ Gaius said quickly.

‘Really? I don’t remember . . .’

‘What do you remember?’

‘The battle.’ The familiar furrowed lines returned and Seren longed to stroke them away. ‘This . . . this monster that went to attack the king. Arthur! Is he . . .?’

‘Thanks to you, Gwaine, the king is well.’

Gwaine lay back on the bed and smiled. ‘We won?’

‘You did.’

Keeping tight hold of Seren’s hand, he drifted back into sleep.

 

She stayed with him until he woke again. ‘Tell me the truth,’ he murmured.

‘About what?’

‘My injuries. There was no head injury, was there?’

‘No, my lord.’

‘I remember the monster’s axe falling, but that is all.’

‘You saved the king’s life.’

‘The injury?’

‘It was . . .’ she paused as she wondered how to describe its extent.

‘Show me,’ and he pushed back the sheet to his waist.

She traced a line from his right hip bone across his stomach to just below his rib cage on the left. He took her hand and pressed it against his heart as he looked up at her. ‘No scar,’ was all he said. She couldn’t meet his look. ‘Was it Merlin?’ She couldn’t lie to him. She shook her head. ‘Gaius?’ Another shake. ‘As I thought. You have magic, Seren.’ It was a statement, not a question and needed no response except for her to look directly back at him. Her blue eyes met with his hazel and she saw the understanding in them.

‘You . . . you don’t hate me then?’

‘Hate you? You saved my life, Seren. Do not worry, I will not tell Arthur.’

They were interrupted by the king arriving. Seren withdrew and went to visit some of the other patients who were always pleased to see her.

Gwaine’s other injuries were only minor, so there was no real reason for him to stay in the infirmary, but he knew that to leave too soon would have caused suspicion, so he stayed. Gaius put him to work grinding herbs and spices, but his eyes followed every move Seren made, and he would spend the evenings sitting talking with her. But she would allow the relationship to go no further although it was becoming clear that his feelings for her were growing stronger. 


	22. Chapter 22

 

It was only Gwyar reminding her that she realised that the full moon was due the following day. She excused herself from the infirmary the night before, and heard that Gwaine had declared himself fit enough to leave it himself and return to his own quarters.

She waited impatiently by the drych. She knew she would have to obey the command of the Goddess, but hoped that this month it would be Gwaine. As the G formed in the drych, she held her breath, but it was the name Gareth that formed. She said nothing but her heart sank. But at least she knew where to find him that evening. In the stables.

 

‘Gareth? Gareth!’ She stood at the entrance of the stables.

He emerged, straw sticking to him. ‘Lady Seren! This is a pleasant surprise.’

‘Gaius sent me with fresh supplies for the horses. Now the battle is over they can be spared. Were many injured?’

‘Too many. But thank you.’

‘Can I see them?’

‘Of course. Come this way.’

The stabling in Camelot was almost as luxurious as the human quarters. Each horse had its own stall, clean straw and plenty of food. And Gareth loved them as much as he did his own brothers, preferring to sleep with them in the stalls rather than have a room in the castle building.

A horse whinnied in one of the stalls. ‘Gringolet?’ Seren asked.

‘Yes, you know him?’

‘We’ve met,’ she said, and fed Gringolet a carrot from the basket, the horse allowing her to stroke his dark velvety nose.

‘Actually, while you’re here, there is one of the horses you could look at. I’ve done my best with her, but she doesn’t seem to be healing.’

Seren gave Gringolet a final pat and followed Gareth down the corridor between the stalls to the last one on the right. A brown mare with a white diamond on her forehead was stamping in her stall, her bandaged leg obviously irritating her. Seren spoke calming words to the mare, then began to sing to her waiting for her to quiet. When Gareth wasn’t looking, she flashed a magic signal to her and the horse became calm.

‘Let’s have a look at this then,’ she said, carefully unwrapping the bandage. ‘Oh, that looks sore. Let’s see what we can do for you.’ She turned to Gareth. ‘What have you already used?’

‘Sorrel and honey,’ he replied.

She nodded and then leaned down and sniffed the wound. It smelt musty, and she wrinkled her nose with distaste. ‘She needs something stronger, there is another infection here that needs a different treatment. Can you fetch me some warm water and ask Gauis for the primrose potion.’

She didn’t need them, but she needed Gareth out of the way. She stroked the horse’s leg and began to sing the healing spell, her eyes flashing amber as she focused on the damage as she withdrew the poison from the wound. She felt the leg again and already it was feeling cooler. By the time Gareth had returned, Seren was happy the wound would heal fully, but she cleaned it and applied the primrose potion, more for its pleasant smell than for any healing properties. She rebandaged it and told Gareth to leave it on for three days before removing it. ‘It should look much better by then,’ she added.

‘She certainly seems much calmer already,’ Gareth added.

‘Erm, do you mind if I stay a while?’ she asked, trying to formulate a plan to seduce the young knight and so far coming up with nothing.

‘Avoiding someone?’ he asked.

‘Something like that,’ she replied with a smile. ‘Do you have any wine?’

‘I can get some. Do you . . . would you like to see my quarters? They are not much but more comfortable than here. Just,’ he joked.

‘Yes, my lord-’

‘Please call me Gareth. I know I am a knight because of my family name, and I would willingly die for Arthur, but . . . Anyway, I will show you where I live,’ and she followed him through a door at the end of the run of stables and into a small, sparsely furnished but surprisingly clean and tidy room.

She was sitting on the edge of his bed when he returned from the kitchens with wine and some pastry sweetmeats.

‘You have made this very comfortable, Gareth,’ she said.

‘I prefer to be here with the horses.’

‘You have always loved horses?’

‘It seems so. Before I can even remember, Gwaine tells me I was more at home on the back of a horse than on my own feet.’

‘Did . . . did many die in the battle?’

He nodded, lowering his head. ‘I did what I could but we lost about twenty, and some good ones too.’

‘That must have been difficult for you.’

‘The potions and poultices Gaius supplied were welcome. You were busy yourself,’ he added.

She nodded and smiled and then had no idea how to progress the conversation, let alone the seduction. Surely the Goddess would help her. And so she did.

‘I have designed a new saddle,’ he said. ‘Would you like to see it?’

‘Of course!’ From under his bed he dragged his new design. It was smaller than the saddles normally used, even by the ladies. ‘Tell me about it,’ she said, and then watched his animated face as he went through the reasons for the design, the way it flexed better on the back of the horse and so would settle more comfortably and cause less discomfort. This really was his passion and a plan began to form as she poured them both more wine as he showed her the matching soft leather bit and bridle.

‘Tell me, Sir Gareth, would this saddle fit a man?’ He blushed and she could immediately see that he had had the same thought himself. ‘Come, let us find out.’

‘You  . . . you are serious?’

‘Why not?’

He put himself onto all fours and Seren settled the saddle onto his back. She threaded the girth underneath him and pulled it tight. ‘Is that too tight?’ she asked. Gareth didn’t speak, just shook his head. Shook his head like a horse. So this was where it was heading.

She took the bridle and placed it over Gareth’s head. He opened his mouth to accept the bit and she tightened the straps around him. She could see from the way the holes were marked that he had done this before so knew exactly how tight to fasten it. She threw the reins back over his head and then stroked over his hair. His head rose to meet her hand.

‘Good boy, good boy,’ she muttered. ‘But you need to protect your knees, don’t you, boy?’ He turned his head towards the cupboard by the bed and she took the hint and opened it to find some knee and hand pads. She slipped them on him and then swung her leg over the saddle and settled herself onto his back, gathering up the reins. She noticed a name scratched into the leather. Celer. She made a clicking noise and tapped him lightly on the thigh with her heel. He began to move forward, circling the confines of his room. As they passed his door for the second time, Seren opened it and, using the reins and her heels, steered him out into the stalls. He paused, but there was no one there so he continued through into the alley way between the stalls.

The horses took little notice, some casting a curious eye over them as they made their way past. Seren wondered how many times he’d practised this alone and felt a surge of sympathy for this man who was little more than a boy at heart, someone more in tune with horses than with people. But whom the Goddess had chosen for her tonight.

As they approached the exit from the stables, Seren leaned forward and patted him. ‘Do you want to go outside, Celer?’ she whispered. Gareth plunged his head and so Seren opened the stable door and they walked out into the light of the full moon. Nearing the exit to the meadows, Gareth, or Celer as she now thought of him, stopped and pawed at one of the stones marking the edge of the pathway. Seren dismounted, deliberately making it an effort, and walked over to the stone, still holding the reins. She picked up the stone to find a key hidden there. Leading Celer forward a little, she unlocked the door and led him through it, remounting once on the other side.

She pressed her thighs around Celer’s waist and urged him down the hill towards a bank of bushes. That should be far enough. As he approached them, she pulled him to a halt and dismounted.

‘That was a very comfortable saddle, Gareth. I mean, Celer.’

Gareth rose to his feet and bowed to her. Seren was still holding the reins and the bit was still between his teeth. She gently pulled him towards her. ‘Could I try it on?’ she asked.

‘Seriously?’

Seren saw his pupils dilate with lust and knew that he was ensnared. She nodded. She helped him out of the bridle and then the saddle and then dropped onto hands and knees on the grass. With trembling hands he placed the saddle on her and then tightened the girth, checking he wasn’t hurting her.

‘And the bridle,’ she said.

Carefully he placed the bit between her teeth and then flung the reins over her head so they slapped against her shoulders, and then gave her the hand and foot protectors. She flexed, preparing herself for his weight, but he was gentle with her as he mounted and then kicked her on. She moved forward unsteadily, realising that a dress wasn’t perhaps the most practical outfit when emulating a horse. She pulled up the skirt and tucked it into the girth. This had the effect of baring most of her bottom to the world, but as she was already wearing a saddle and bridle, thought that that was the least of her concerns.

It was considerably easier to move now and she shook her head in as horsey a gesture as she could as she progressed through the soft grass. He moved her on with his legs and she sped up a little, and then he smacked her hard on the bottom. Instinctively she reared, the smack burning on her bare skin, and she felt Gareth slide off her onto the ground behind. As she lowered herself back onto all fours, she turned to where he was lying on his back and nuzzled at him with her nose. He was laughing so hard he could barely move.

‘Oh Lady Seren,’ he said. ‘You are wonderful.’ He sat upright and then steadied her for remounting.

She let him, then bounced him up and down a few times to let him know she was feeling feisty. He pulled at the reins so she shook her head against the bit and then smacked her again so that she reared for a second time. This time he stayed on, and she twisted and turned, trying to buck him off, but he resisted, occasionally finding her bare skin with a well-aimed slap. When she realised she wasn’t able to unseat him, she dropped back onto all fours and then, arms aching, onto her forearms. It was then that she felt Gareth slide off the saddle and, without her even moving position, he was kneeling behind her. She could hear him tugging at the belt of his trousers and then his hands were on her hips.

She was too exhausted to move, although she was aware of him moving up closer against her, and then he was sliding into her. She moaned with the pleasure of it as he covered her. He was stroking strong fingers over her hips as though calming a frightened mare, but plunging into her like a stallion at the height of his prowess.

Seren’s forehead was resting on the ground between her arms until the felt a gentle tug on her mouth. She slowly lifted her head, resisting the bit to give him something to pull against, shaking her head from side to side. He steadied her and she stretched her neck backwards, the tension in her muscles causing tremors to tingle along her nerves and she realised how close she was to orgasm. She could feel him thrusting deep into her, stretching back her head as she was biting hard on the bit. He was grunting now on every long hard stroke into her until she called out her own climax and felt him drive his final lengths into her and he roared long and loud at his release.

She caught the cloud in her hand and then relaxed as he collapsed onto the ground next to her. ‘Oh Seren,’ he said. ‘You angel,’ and then he slept.

Seren struggled out of the bridle and saddle and left them next to him, smiling as she watched his contented face. She walked back up the castle, trying but failing to brush the grass stains from her dress, the burnished leather-brown bead safe in her hand.

 

Two days later she was sitting with Guinevere on the king’s balcony, supported on extra cushions as she was still rather stiff from her horsing around with Gareth. She had told Guinevere she had fallen. It was unbearably hot, the shaded balcony providing access to whatever breeze deigned to visit Camelot. There was a flurry of activity in the courtyard, but both Seren and Guinevere were too hot to move and see what was occurring.

The sun was considerably lower in the sky, but it was no less hot, when there was the sound of footsteps in the corridor and a conversation with the guards. Gwaine crossed the room towards them and bowed. Seren struggled more upright in her chair.

‘My lady, my lady.’

‘Gwaine, what is the matter?’ Guinevere asked, seeing his face.

‘‘It is my father, my lady. He has been taken grievous ill. A messenger arrived earlier.’

‘You will be going to him?’

‘Yes, my lady. I shall be returning home with Gaheris and Gareth. Gareth is just arranging the horses.’

‘When will you return?’ Seren asked.

He paused before he answered. ‘I do not know. If my father dies, then I will be king.’

‘You will stay there?’

He could not meet her eye. ‘I do not know.’

Seren bit at her lip. ‘Safe journey, my lord. For you and your brothers. I will walk to the courtyard with you, if I may.’

Gwaine bid farewell to Guinevere and left the room with Seren.

‘How long will it take you, my lord?’

‘If we travel fast, ten days, perhaps two weeks.’

‘I hope your father makes a full recovery.’

‘I think that unlikely, Seren. He has been ill for some time but has recently deteriorated badly. My mother sent for us and she said she would not do so unless the end was nigh upon him.’

‘Gwaine?’

At last he stopped and looked at her fully. ‘My lady?’

‘You know I am promised to the Goddess?’ He nodded, the muscles working in his cheeks. ‘But I cannot let you go without this,’ and she reached up to him and their lips met. At first he did not respond and Seren wondered if she had made an enormous mistake, but then the emotional dam within him broke and he held her close against him, returning her kiss gently at first, and then more firmly.

This was the first man she had kissed like this who had not been ensnared. The first man who had kissed her for who she was, and knowing what she was, not because they were enchanted. She was melting against him, her entire body reacting and responding to him. She ran her fingers into his soft curling hair, pulling his mouth harder against her. He pressed her closer to him, his hands firm on her back, fingers strong, moulding her against him.

Reluctantly she gently withdrew from his kiss, knowing that he had to leave. His soft lips remained parted, moist from their meeting, and she could feel the depth of his breathing.

‘Seren?’ he asked, looking puzzled.

‘If you do not return . . .’ she began.

‘If I had something to return for . . .’ His eyes searched hers, but she had to look away. ‘My apologies, my lady,’ he said. ‘That was unfair. Your future has been chosen for you much as mine has. But thank you.’ He pressed the first two fingers of his right hand to his lips and then transferred the kiss to hers. ‘Think of me once in a while,’ he said, and then he turned and walked away.


	23. Chapter 23

After Gaheris and Gareth, Seren’s hopes had risen that Gwaine would be the next to be shown in the drych to complete the trio of brothers, and that the Goddess would somehow bring him back to Camelot. She barely slept the night before the full moon, restless with dreams of Gwaine. She could not forget him but was only too aware of her obligations to the Goddess. The only person who seemed to understand was Merlin who was unfailingly sympathetic, but there was little he could do.

‘Do you love him?’ he asked once.

‘I . . . I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘What does it feel like?’

‘You’re asking me?’ he snorted.

‘What about that girl, oh, what was her name?’

‘It doesn’t matter what her name was, I don’t have time for a girl in my life, I already have Arthur.’

‘But you’ll marry one day?’ she asked, curious about how he saw his future.

He shrugged. ‘Who knows what the future holds for us, Seren? Mine is here with Arthur, that is all I know.’

 

As the first hint of sunlight appeared, she stood with Gwyar at the drych. It seemed slow that morning to form the name, but when it did she simply stared at it, not wanting to read the name that formed. The days before the full moon had been busy at the castle. There had been a number of arrests, there were still some of Iustig’s men from the battle, so for once there were residents in the cells. Not that normally affected Seren except that the name shown by the drych that month was Sir Lucas, and on the night of the full moon, he was responsible for the cells.

Lucas had been on her mental list of potential knights and she had been studying him, his friends, his reactions and his banter. When she had been helping out at the feasts, he would often make a half-hearted grab for her. She would slap him away and he would always make mention of how much he liked that. She wondered if he was partial to a little bondage himself, in the way Guiy had shown her, but him receiving. And perhaps the Goddess had arranged that he would be overseeing the cells that night.

Seren prepared a tray of wine and sweetmeats and took them down to the cells. Sir Lucas was there with two other guards.

‘Hello, my dear,’ he said, his golden hair gleaming in the light from the torches. ‘What have we here?’

‘I brought you some wine, sir,’ she said, and curtseyed. ‘I . . . I have never been to these cells before,’ and she shuddered.

‘They are not so bad,’ he replied. He picked up the flagon and poured himself a goblet and then one for her. He handed it to her. ‘Join me,’ he said and clinked Seren’s goblet.

‘You have many imprisoned, my lord?’

‘Not many. Although we only use the cells now.’

‘What else is there?’

‘Oh, the dungeons. Arthur does not approve of their use.’

‘The dungeons? Are they close by?’

‘Would you like to see them?’

‘Oh, could I, sir?’ she said, smiling up at him.

‘How can I refuse such a smile?’ 

Shaking her head at the ease at which he was flattered, Seren waited as he ordered the guards to keep watch, took one of the torches and then waved her forward to the staircase into the depths below the castle. Seren was aware that Sir Lucas was watching her as she edged carefully down the same steps she had been with Gwyer. She pretended to stumble and he held out his hand to steady her. She kept hold of his hand as she descended the final steps.

‘It’s this way,’ he said, turning away from the route she had previously taken.

It was cold and damp along the corridor. Lucas took one of the keys from his belt and unlocked the door at the end. It opened with a groan. Seren walked in and paused as he lit the torches from his own. It was a large room but some of the instruments of torture took up a large part of the floor area. Seren shivered, less from the cold, more from the thought of these machines being used.

Lucas moved next to her and put his cloak around her. ‘You have seen these in action?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘I’m sorry to say, during the Great Purge, this room was regularly used.’

‘At King Uther’s command?’

Lucas nodded again. ‘They were dark days, Lady Seren. I am grateful you never knew them.’

She wandered round the machines, looking at the chains and cuffs, the wheels and cogs and levers. ‘How does this one work?’ she asked, standing back and looking at one frame.

Sir Lucas stood within the frame and reached his arms up. ‘The arms are held here, then that lever is turned, and eventually the arms come out of . . . it’s not pleasant.’

Seren took a risk and stood directly in front of him, breathing deeply so that her breasts were displayed to him. ‘It is a shame they could not be used for other more pleasurable . . . situations.’

As his pupils dilated and he became ensnared, she smiled up at him. ‘Now, if you were to take off your chainmail and shirt . . .’ He lifted the chainmail over his head and it clattered to the ground, followed by his shirt. Seren dragged over a small stool, stood on it, lifted up his arm and clipped the cuff around his wrist, repeating with the other wrist.

‘Well, my lord, it appears you are at my mercy.’

‘It would appear so, Seren.’ A smile flickered around his lips. ‘Yours to do with as you please.’

She mock-frowned. ‘But my lord has not been well-behaved, has he?’

‘I do not know what you mean.’

‘My lady,’ she prompted. There was a discarded riding crop on the floor and she picked up and then stroked it round Sir Lucas’s stomach. ‘If you had been naughty, then I would have to punish you, wouldn’t I, Sir Lucas?’ She had circled him and was back standing in front of him. ‘Wouldn’t I?’

She was already aware of the bulge in the front of his trousers. She had guessed right, at first wondering if he would be want to be dominant, but then, seeing his reaction to the dungeon, deciding that he would definitely prefer to be dominated.

She ran the stick from his shoulder down over his chest and stomach and onto his bulge. ‘Did I give you permission for this?’ she asked.

‘No, my lady,’ he said, eyes widening with lust.

She raised an eyebrow at him accusingly and saw him shudder. She took the crop and tapped it lightly on the bulge. He gasped in response. She undid his belt and trousers and led them slide down his legs, freeing his penis. She curled the crop around it, lifting it and then letting it fall. He released a moan. ‘Oh, my lady.’

‘Did I say you could speak?’ she demanded. He shook his head. ‘You will have to be punished.’

She walked behind and trailed the crop across his bottom before taking aim. The first smack landed on his bare buttocks with a satisfying crack and he released a groan. The second had him twisting in the shackles. As he turned, she saw that his penis was now fully and impressively erect. She whipped him a third time, watching the red stripes develop on his skin. She walked round to face him again and once more trailed the crop over his penis.

‘Take me in your mouth, Seren.’

She whipped him on the thigh. ‘Do not give me orders, Sir Lucas. Remember your position.’

He swallowed hard. ‘I am sorry, my lady.’

She knew she would do what he asked, but she wanted to make him wait, make him appreciate her. She stood back from him and put down the crop, then began to slowly undo the lacing of her dress. She held it against her shoulders at first, watching him watching her, his penis now fully upright. And then she let the dress slide from her body, revealing her smooth pale flesh.

He was already panting hard. She started to touch herself, stroking over her breasts, her stomach. Her fingers slid between her legs and emerged, glistening wet. She approached Sir Lucas and placed her fingers on his lips. He sucked them, eyes closing in ecstasy as he tasted her juices. She stroked those fingers down his body, trailing them over his stomach until they paused just shy of his manhood. He was desperate for her to touch him, she knew that, but still she paused. And then she bent her head and touched only the very tip with her tongue.

It immediately sprang up to meet her, and she slid her lips over the tip, holding it there. He was struggling against the bonds, trying to force himself deeper into her, but she was in control. She released it from her mouth but caught it in her hand.

‘My lord, you must not move. Whatever I do, you must not move. Or you will be punished.’

She could see him swallowing. ‘Yes, my-’

‘Do not speak!’ and she smacked him on the other thigh.

His penis responded, jerking upwards. She curled the crop around it again. ‘I said, do not move!’

He nodded his head slowly, painfully acknowledging her.

She took his penis and used it to stimulate her nipples, swapping from side to side until they were pert. She squeezed her breasts around his erection, rubbing it against her warm flesh, looking up at him.

He was looking down at her, his face furrowed in concentration and anguish.

‘What do you want me to do, Sir Lucas? Do you want me to hold you like this . . . or take me in your mouth?’ He started nodding frantically. ‘Or I could just . . .’ and she took a step backwards to his obvious distress.

‘What do you want, my lady? I’ll give you anything.’

‘I want nothing from you, my lord. And I told you not to speak.’ She walked behind him, seeing him tremble with anticipation as she trailed the crop around his body before removing it and then bringing it down hard once more across his buttocks. He hissed with the pleasure and the pain of it, so she repeated it, listening to him enjoy it. She paused between strokes, sometimes trailing the crop across his skin, enjoying his anticipation, sometimes surprising him with a gently, playful stroke, sometimes putting some strength behind it, Lucas loving every single moment. He moaned and cried out when she struck him, but begged her to do it again while she toyed with him, making him wait, trailing the crop over his skin.

She walked back in front of him and ran her tongue over her lips. She stroked her crop along the length of him and bit her lip as she looked up at him, teasing him. He was gasping with anticipation and she eventually relented, kneeling down very slowly in front of him and taking his penis between her hands. It was solid, yet smooth, and she paused, licking her lips before taking the tip in her mouth and then sliding it into her, using her fingers to control his bucking as he thrust immediately deeper into her.

With him being tied, she was able to take control over him, slowing his movements until their rhythms matched and he began to rhythmically pulse. She took one hand away from his penis to touch herself, stroking over her body and to between her legs. She had to free him so that he could make love to her as the Goddess required, but she was loathe to release him from her mouth.

She forced herself to withdraw from him, despite his protestations, and quickly released his wrists. He pushed her back against the frame of the machine and entered her roughly although she was more than ready for him. He pushed hard, fast, holding her tightly against the wood as he thrust into her, leaving her gasping and clutching at him for support. He hitched up her legs around his waist and she clung to him, his powerful plunging making her rise and fall with every thrust inside her, taking his revenge on her and she was loving it.

His thrusting became more urgent and as he urged his long final slow strokes into her, she came, collapsing limply in his arms as she felt his release inside her. He held her against him as she reached out and grasped the cloud, smiling at her before she could see him withdraw from her and she became invisible to him.

He dressed as she picked up her clothing, hurrying into the corridor as he took a final look round the room, extinguished the torches and locked the door behind him.

The guards were on patrol when she returned to the guard room. She paused at the exit, watching Sir Lucas as he returned, picking up the goblet of wine and taking a sip, completely oblivious to her presence and what they had just shared, but the metallic grey bead safe in her keeping.


	24. Chapter 24

 

She woke before dawn with an unfulfilled longing inside her and the dreams of Gwaine swirling in her mind. She did not want to lose that image so slid her fingers between her legs. However long he was away, however many knights were part of the Goddess’s plans, Gwaine was still the one she longed for. Eyes closed, she focused on the image from her dream. Cloak. Chainmail. Boots. Smile. Eyes. Hair. Oh, the hair.

She pictured herself running her fingers through it as she started to stroke herself. She was already moist from her dreams, and used her juices to lubricate her movements. She circled her bud, the image of Gwaine’s handsome features encouraging her movements until she strafed across it and the nerve endings went wild. It was almost too painful to touch, but she did, enjoying the discomfort, dragging a nail across it to heighten the pleasure.

She imagined how Gwaine would touch her, stroke her body, run his fingers over her breasts. Her other hand moved to mirror what was happening in her mind. He plucked at her nipple, teasing it into response, tweaking it. She knew that he would lower his lips to it, suck it, nibble it with his teeth, fondle and squeeze her breasts, much as she was doing now.

Oh how she longed to make love to him. The other knights had taught her so much, but none of them made her stomach lurch with lust when she saw them. Her heart seemed tuned to him, immediately being able to pick him out from any group of knights.

She could imagine him so clearly and for some reason her imagination had her tied to the Round Table. She reached her hands above her head and twisted her fingers into the headboard to anchor herself steady. This time it was not Guiy who had bound her but Gwaine. She could imagine the hardness of the wood against her skin, the anticipation as he tightened the binds around her wrists.

She watched as she let his cloak drop to the floor. Then his chainmail, tunic, boots and trousers. At last he was naked, standing watching her, hands on hips. Her eyes trailed over him, over the gorgeous hair, the tanned torso, well-muscled, so masculine, the slim hips and oh! She thought her heart would stop.

He approached her, pushing his hair back from his face, his eyes seeking out hers. This was the moment she had waited for since the first time she had met him. He stroked cool fingers down over her face and her body responded by arching up towards him, pulling against the bonds. His fingers stroked down her throat as he lowered his head closer to hers. He was looking at her closely, taking in every feature on her face, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his sweet breath against her skin.

His fingers continued down onto her collar bone, tenderly tracing a path over them before trailing a finger down between her breasts and then under the one closest to him, cupping it with his hand. He squeezed it gently but firmly, and then ran investigating fingers over her nipple. The anticipation was exquisite. He lowered his head to hers and she felt the first touch of his lips against hers, soft and warm, tender and passionate. She wanted to hold him hard against her, but could not, forcing her face up to meet his.

His fingers began to roam further as he kissed her, stroking over her breasts, squeezing and fondling, tweaking and plucking. His tongue ventured into her mouth, sliding softly against hers, twining with it, arousing her like no other man ever had. His hand slid over her stomach and then into the softness between her thighs. She had been longing for his touch for so long that her body became completely motionless, not wanting to miss any of the movement of his fingers. He continued to kiss her as she slowly parted her legs and felt the cool strength of his fingers enter her. His strokes were slow and measured, as gentle as she had anticipated, the tenderness belying their strength. She could have stayed there forever, kissing him while he caressed her, but Gwaine had other ideas and decided to lick down her body, turning her skin into a frenzy of responses, each more overwhelming than the last.

When his lips returned to her mouth she was more than ready to take him inside her, willing him to enter her. He did so, easing himself gently into her and then pausing so she was almost frantic with anticipation.

‘Seren, I love you with all my heart,’ he whispered.

‘I love you too, Gwaine,’ she replied.

And then he began to move inside her, upping his pace, and then easing his shoulders under her knees so he lifted her from the table, plunging so deep into her that she was thrashing her head from side to side in ecstasy. She was pulling on the bonds that tied her, using them as resistance as he pressed her against the table, driving her towards her inevitable release and she groaned and gasped his name as her orgasm flooded through her.

 

It was some time before she could recover enough to remember it was only her imagination, that, despite her feeling for Gwaine, the Goddess had not yet blessed her with his name in the drych. Surely the Goddess had a plan for Gwaine? Perhaps she was merely saving him as the last knight. Her swan song. 


	25. Chapter 25

 

She was waiting by the drych when Gwyar arrived. It was still dark, no sign of the dawn, but Seren started pacing.

‘What is it?’ Gwyar asked. ‘Surely you’re not worried? You have done this before.’

Seren continued to pace. ‘I just want to know who this is.’

‘But you have done so well, Seren. We are so close to the necklace being complete, to the spell being ready.’

‘I know, but . . .’

‘But what? This is the most important things you have ever done. That we have ever done.’

Seren took a deep breath and then nodded. ‘Yes, yes. Can we . . .?’ She nodded towards the drych.

Gwyar looked out of the window to where the first fingers of sunlight were creeping over the distant mountains. She nodded.

Seren was mentally chanting, ‘Let it be Gwaine. Let it be Gwaine.’ Gwyar added the powders and stirred it slowly. The liquid stilled, and then the powders formed a silvery name. Leon.

‘Leon?’ Seren asked in both shock and disappointment.

‘See for yourself,’ Gwyar said dismissively. ‘Were you hoping for someone else? Oh! You were, weren’t you? Who? Or do I really need to ask.’

Seren sighed loudly. ‘I just thought . . .’

Gwyar gave her a hug. ‘The Goddess has plans for you. She knows what she wants for you. Do not fear, she knows what is right for you. So, Sir Leon.’

She had no choice, it had to be Leon. Seren thought about Leon, probably for the first time. He was one of the quieter knights, but at least she had spent some time with him, unlike Menas, for instance. But she still knew very little about him.

 

By asking a few oblique questions, she found that Leon was one of the night guards that evening. She waited until the castle was in silence before leaving her room dressed only in her nightgown, drifting through the castle as though still asleep, walking the corridors until she passed where Leon was posted.

She heard him call her name, but ignored him, gliding past. He followed her, calling her softly, afraid to wake her from her sleep walking. She opened the door of a small side room and entered, flashing a spell at the door as he followed her in.

‘Lady Seren?’ he asked, touching her on the shoulder. ‘Lady Seren?’

With a start, she appeared to wake, looking around her in surprise.

‘Where am I? Why am I here?’

‘You were sleepwalking, my lady.’

‘Oh!’

‘Let me escort you back to your room.’

‘Thank you,’ and Seren waited until he tried the door.

 ‘This door will not unlock,’ Leon said, rattling the handle.

‘Oh! Are we locked in?’

‘It would appear so. I could shout but no one will hear us here.’

‘They will search for you?’

‘Not until the morning, I suspect.’

Seren sat on the one piece of furniture in the room, a bench table. There was only one torch which was producing only a fitful light but little heat. ‘I am cold, Sir Leon.’

‘Oh.’ Leon looked hopefully round the room but there was nothing. Seren was well aware that he was trying not to stare at her, the flimsy nightgown enhancing rather than covering her figure.

Really, she was offering herself to him on a . . . well, table, but it was proving more difficult than she had anticipated to complete the seduction. ‘Come hold me and warm me, please,’ she said.

‘Oh! Yes, my lady Seren.’ He sat next to her on the table and she leaned against him, as he wrapped his cloak around her.

‘A bit closer?’ she requested.

‘You’re . . . you’re sure?’

‘Leon, I’m cold and you’re here. Now hold me!’ He seemed to respond much better to a direct order, putting his arm around her and pulling her closer against him. ‘That’s better.’

He seemed to relax a little as they sat there together and she moulded herself closer against him.

‘I do not think you had this in mind when you joined Arthur, did you?’ she asked him. ‘More battles and quests than comforting women?’ He sniffed his agreement. ‘Any woman would be honoured to be . . . comforted by you, my lord.’

‘How I wish that were true, Seren.’

Seren turned and looked up at him. ‘Surely you do not mean that, Sir Leon?’

He nodded and shrugged. ‘It seems to come so naturally to the others, but not to me.’

‘The others?’

‘Gwaine . . .’ Seren knew that would be the first name that was mentioned and her heart clenched, but she put that to one side. ‘And Gaheris, and Lucas . . .’

‘You have known a woman, though, surely?’

‘Yes, my lady. But . . .’

‘But?’

‘I was unsure what to do.’

‘I see. She was not a good teacher?’

‘She should not have needed to be.’

‘Then she was not fair on you, my lord. She should have been gentle and . . . encouraging. It was not your fault if she was not.’

He was silent for a while, mulling over what she’d said. ‘You think that, my lady?’

‘Most certainly.’

‘But how do I learn?’

‘Leon, you are one of the bravest and most noble of the knights.’

‘That does not get me a maid in my bed,’ he muttered.

She reached up a hand and turned his face towards her and then softly kissed him on the lips. ‘You would like to learn?’

As his pupils dilated and she ensnared him, she smiled to herself. She would be the best teacher for Leon and just hoped he would remember at least some of what she would teach him when he was released.


	26. Chapter 26

 

She started to kiss him slowly, sensuously, stroking fingers across his cheek. He was unsure how to respond at first, but there was no hurry, they had all night. ‘Follow me,’ she whispered, and he did, at first kissing her softly, then upping the pace as she encouraged him, slowing him if he tried to move on too fast.

She placed his hand on her shoulder and then gradually smoothed it down towards her breast. He seemed uncertain what to do, so she squeezed her fingers over his. He really did need guidance.

‘Would it help if you watched me?’ she suggested. ‘And I tell you what I’m doing?’ He looked almost relieved. ‘Give me your cloak,’ and she spread it on the table and lay on it. ‘Now stand beside me. Touch me when you want to. I will tell you what feels good, and show you what feels right. Come.  Put your hand here,’ and she guided him to her right breast, placing her other hand on her left. ‘Watch me. Follow me,’ and she trailed her fingertips across her breast. Leon copied her. She stroked round the nipple and was very aware that it responded, feeling the skin taughten as it began to stiffen. Leon was leaning in, watching it closely. His fingers circled her other nipple and it responded in the same way and he smiled.

She drew her finger directly over the nipple and waited for him to do the same, and then gently plucked at it. He did the same, but a little too enthusiastically. ‘Gently,’ she said.

‘Sorry.’

‘No, don’t apologise. It will be right later, but you need to start very gently. Now . . .’ and she guided his fingers back onto her nipple. This time he was much better, and Seren felt herself responding to his light touch. She cupped her hand up under her breast, lifting it. ‘Suck me,’ she said. Suck me.’

Tentatively he leaned forward and she felt the touch of his beard against her breast and then the feel of his lips around her nipple. He sucked at her, and she moaned with pleasure.

‘That’s good. That’s so good.’ She pressed his hand against her other breast and he squeezed it more firmly than before. ‘Oh yes, oh yes,’ she whispered. ‘So good.’

She reached up and stroked his curly hair, seeing it reflecting the light from the torch. He would be her last knight and she was happy to teach him what she had learned over the last year. She did not know what plans the Goddess had for her future, whether she would ever make love to another man, so she was determined that this would be good.

Now the need between her legs was growing. She took Leon’s hand and moved it slowly across her stomach. He raised his head. She smiled and turned so that he was looking down the length of her body. She parted her legs towards him and saw him swallow.

‘Don’t be afraid, Sir Leon. Watch me,’ and she slid her middle finger between her legs and started to slowly draw it backwards and forwards, slowly into her depths, withdrawing it wet and glistening and drawing it over her bud. The rhythmic movements were really arousing her. She took Leon’s finger and used it to rub herself, showing him how to enter her and then to find her bud.

She gasped as she pressed his finger onto it. ‘Leon, when you hear any woman do that, do more of what you’ve just done.’

‘You are serious?’

‘Oh yes. Very serious. Listen to me. Listen to her, whoever it is. She’ll tell you what she likes if you just listen. Now . . .’

As Leon slipped his finger deep into her wetness, she moaned deep and low, and as he withdrew and strafed over her bud, she gasped with pleasure. ‘Oh, that’s good,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, oh, oh. Faster, faster. Harder.’ And then she lost the power of speech as she wriggled against his fingers, urging him deeper into her and harder against her. She reached out to him and her fingers touched his chest. She stroked down it, her fingers stroking through his hair, over the smoothness of his stomach, then into more hair. She stroked along the length of his hardness. He was most definitely aroused by her and she was not going to waste this.

She pulled him towards her and then on top of her, between her legs. She raised her knees, guiding him into her, feeling him nudging at her entrance. And then he was sliding luxuriously into her and she released a low moan.

‘Is that . . . am I . . .?’

‘That is wonderful and you are perfect, Sir Leon. My stars, you are long and hard! I can feel you so deep inside me. Oh lord, that feels so good. Now slowly . . . oh yes. That’s good. That’s so good. Now faster. Oh yes.’

The words were punctuated by gasps as he entered and withdrew from her. And then she needed say no more as she guided his rhythm, urging him to speed up. He was grunting slightly with each thrust, and the simple, feral noise ignited her orgasm like nothing else before and she cried out in ecstasy as her emotions flooded through her.

‘Can I . . .?’ he gasped as she arched and bucked against him.

‘Oh, oh, oh, oh yes. Now! Aaaaaaah!’ and she gripped onto his arms tightly as he released himself into her, panting hard.

‘Oh Seren.’

‘Sir Leon,’ she gasped, looking for the cloud, but there was none.

‘Teach me more,’ he said. ‘I want to know more.’

‘Wait. Let me, just . . . Oh.’ She became aware of just how hard the table actually was, not like in her imagined coupling with Gwaine, and she eased herself into a sitting position and then to standing.

Leon was watching her, waiting for her to instruct him. She could not get back on that table again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and started to kiss him, stretching up to ease her aching muscles. She could feel him responding, his hardness rising between them as they kissed. And then she turned her back on him, rubbing herself up against him so that she could feel his hardness against the small of her back.

She took his hands and brought them round to her breasts and he pressed them against her. She started to sway her hips against him, feeling his hardness rolling across her back and he fondled and squeezed her breasts, rubbing her nipples with his fingers, tweaking and catching them between his fingertips. And then he lowered his head to her neck and started to kiss it, then nibble it. Her breath caught as his teeth flicked against her skin, and then he kissed up her neck to her ear, tugging on her earlobe and then exploring the contours of her ear with his tongue.

‘Mmmm,’ she sighed. ‘That’s good. The longer you can make me wait, the better,’ and she was just relaxing into this tenderness when he whispered, ‘I want you.’

Those three simple words sent her stomach into freefall and she pushed her body hard against his. ‘Now,’ she said, and leaned forward onto the table, spreading her legs and bracing herself.

He understood her completely, teasing her soaking entrance with the tip of his penis, while she parted her legs even wider to encourage him into her. But he was making her wait even though she angled her hips up to him, her hands searching for purchase on the table and only finding it by grabbing handfuls of Leon’s cloak and holding onto it tightly.

‘Leon, please, now,’ she begged, and was rewarded with the first movement of him into her. But he was in no hurry, obviously taking her advice on making her wait completely to heart. She was aching for him, her body tensed ready to receive him, poised on her toes, her hips angled up at him.

Incredibly slowly, he started to slide into her. She was trembling with anticipation, waiting for the tension to be dissipated from her body with his thrusting. As he reached into the depths of her, she squeezed her muscles around him and that prompted him into responding, increasing his movements so that she whimpered with anticipation. He slowly began to increase his pace almost totally withdrawing his penis so that she was trembling with fear that he would not return it into her, sighing with relief as he did.

He slid his fingers underneath her and made contact with her bud, firing her nerves, igniting her orgasm so that tongues of fire flooded through her body. She flattened herself onto the table as he simultaneously plundered her depths and excited the centre of her femininity. His co-ordination was faultless, the dual assault on her body and her senses flooding her body in wave after wave after wave of exquisite emotion until she felt drunk with lust.

She was so relaxed by her continuing orgasm that at first she barely felt the tip of his finger pressing at her anus. It was moist with her own wetness and he used that to gently probe as he continued to thrust into her. She unconsciously responded to the touch of his finger by tilting her hips up towards him, forcing his finger deeper into her.

‘You like that?’ Leon asked quietly, enjoying this control of her as he started to sway his hips so that his penis found untouched nerves deep inside her as his fingertip probed deeper into her.

‘Oh!’ was all Seren could reply, but her body responded by pushing hard back against him. His finger entered her more deeply, lubricated by her own juices, and she wriggled and thrust back, spearing herself on his finger and cock and causing her to gasp as he thrust and pushed, forcing her orgasm onto an even higher plain until she cried out, completely overwhelmed with the force of her emotions.

As her climax ebbed away, Leon slowly withdrew his penis and trailed it along her body, just that short sensitive distance, and his large hands splayed across her buttocks, opening her up fully to him as he pushed the tip of his manhood against her anus. She had no control left over her muscles, she was drained from lust, and as he eased it into her, dripping with her own juices, she put up no resistance, just clutching at the side edges of the table as he slid into her.

Emotions she had never before experienced tore deliciously through her body and she could only gasp and pant as he eased himself into and out of her, slowly speeding as he gripped her hips tightly and then the final crescendo as he groaned deep and long as he released himself inside her, leaving her trembling and shaking with spent lust as she reached out for the tiny cloud that now formed. The last bead for the necklace, multi-coloured in hue. The last knight.

He climbed up to sit next to her on the table and held her.

‘Sir Leon!’ she said, eyes and mouth wide with surprise.

‘Did I . . . do something wrong?’ he asked, looking suddenly worried.

‘No, oh no, sir knight,’ she replied. ‘Nothing wrong at all.’

 ‘Thank you, Lady Seren,’ was all he could say further before the entrancement disappeared and he lay back on the table, curling into sleep. She put her nightgown back on, stroked gentle fingers across his face, seeing him smile, pulled his cloak over him, patted the table affectionately, and then left the room, walking rather unsteadily, the door no longer locked. 


	27. Chapter 27

 

‘Lady Seren! Lady Seren!’ She had been walking across the courtyard when she heard a familiar voice.

The three horsemen rode through the arch. Percival and Leon turned towards the stables, but Gwaine trotted over to her and jumped from his horse, his hair swishing.

‘You are well, my lord?’ She patted Gringolet’s nose while she watched Gwaine.

‘Yes, my lady. And you?’

‘Very well, thank you.’ There was a silence as neither of them knew what to say although the look that passed between them spoke more. ‘I had heard you had returned to Camelot.’

‘Only two days past, but then immediately called out.’

‘You were successful in your quest?’

‘We found the sorcerer that had threatened Arthur. He was tried and found guilty of treason.’

Seren shivered. ‘It is . . . sad that dark magic is still being worked against the king.’ She picked her words carefully.

He nodded. ‘Very sad. You will be singing tonight?’

She smiled. ‘If the king requests it.’

‘You know that he will.’

‘I know you will ask him to.’

‘Your voice . . . is magical.’

‘I . . . must go.’

‘And I must bathe.’

‘Please do.’ She wrinkled her nose.

‘Will you come and watch me? Again?’

Seren blushed. ‘You know that was an accident,’ she said.

‘So you say, my lady. So you say.’

 

The two women leaned over the drych at dawn on the day of Samhain. According to the Book of Shadows, the drych would provide a final object of power. Although they had added nothing to the water, it was bubbling and tumbling. There was a sudden rushing of water from the centre and then it calmed. Seren could see something in the base of it, and Gwyar lifted it out. It was a sphere similar in texture to those that made up the necklace, but larger, containing flecks of all the other beads. Seren could recognise some of the knights’ essence in there and wondered about its presence.

Gwyar consulted the book. ‘This must be the orb of power,’ she said. ‘But the book says very little about its use.’ She looked at it closely, hoping she could read something in it, but saw nothing. ‘Seren, does it respond to you?’

Seren took the orb. It filled the palm of her hand. There was a vibration to it that belied its magical energy, but she could not work out its purpose. She handed it back to Gwyar. ‘Sorry, nothing.’

 

‘You know what to do?’ Gwyar asked again as they prepared that evening.

Seren nodded. She was wearing the necklace, she knew the incantation, they just had to wait until nightfall to confront Arthur.

She followed Gwyar down to the feast, but could barely eat anything. Not even Gwaine’s teasing could raise her from her gloom.

‘My lady, are you unwell?’ he asked, concern written large on his face.

‘Maybe a little tired.’

‘I know a comfortable bed where you could . . . sleep,’ he suggested, hoping to raise a smile.

She squeezed his hand and he held her fingers in his own. She had no idea what would happen to him after this night. Twelve of the other knights would join her and Gwyar, and the druids and other magical people were due to arrive at their signal, but that would leave Gwaine with Arthur, Gwen and Merlin.

She knew Gwyar was right, that Arthur had to be challenged regarding his stance on magic in the kingdom, but Seren wanted this to be peaceful and she was no longer sure that Gwyar would settle for convincing Arthur to accept magic, not if there was the chance that she could take power for herself if he refused. And setting the twelve knights against their King was part of that. She had no idea what role Gwaine was going to play in the evening’s events, but without him being enchanted, he would not automatically be on Gwyar’s side. On her side.

Arthur called to Gwaine across the table as a messenger left Arthur’s side, and Gwaine reluctantly released Seren’s hand and went to the king. Arthur spoke briefly but urgently to him and Gwaine left the hall. It was then that Gwyar caught Seren’s eye and nodded. Seren’s heart began to beat ferociously as Gwyar stood and Seren followed her towards Arthur.

‘May I speak with you, brother?’ she asked. He nodded. ‘Not here. Somewhere private.’

‘Yes, I will just say a few words and we will go into the anti-room. Merlin is in there. Should I ask him to leave?’

‘No. He can stay.’

Seren approached Gwen. ‘May I speak with you somewhere in private?’

‘Of course, my dear. Shall we go to my room? Is it something to do with Sir Gwaine? I have seen the way you look at each other. I would not be surprised if he had strong feelings for you, Seren. And I have not seen that from Gwaine before.’ Seren was grateful for Gwen’s chatter as they approached her room, even if the subject matter was causing her pain. As Gwen entered, Seren shut the door between them and cast a strong locking spell on it, smiling briefly as she remembered the effects of the last time she had used it. Sir Leon.

As she left, she could hear Guinevere calling her name and hammering at the door, but there was no one to hear. She ran up to the battlements and lit one of the beacons – the signal to their supporters that the plan was underway. As she returned through the main hall, it was to find everyone frozen by one of Gwyar’s spells. She carefully closed the door to the anti-room behind her, seeing Gwyar, Merlin and Arthur.

‘What do you want, Gwyar?’ Arthur was asking as Seren joined them.

‘This is the feast of Samhain. You must allow magic back into the kingdom.’

‘Never,’ Arthur replied. ‘You know my feelings on this. They have not changed. I will not persecute those with magic but it has no place in Camelot.’

‘I thought with Merlin here, you had changed.’

‘Merlin? What does Merlin have to do with this?’

Hearing his name, Merlin looked up to the trio.

‘How can you be so blind, Arthur? Merlin has powerful magic.’

‘Merlin? But . . . Merlin?’ Arthur was looking at Gwyar in shock. ‘But . . . but he’s just a servant, and not a very good one at that.’

‘He is so much more than that. And shame on you for not seeing it. So does this change your stance?’

‘No.’

‘You are a fool, Arthur.’

‘I am still the king.’

‘Not for much longer, Arthur. If you will not change your mind, then I must change it for you. By force.’

‘You cannot. You do not have the power.’

‘Maybe I did not before, but since the Great Dragon helped us find the Book of Shadows, we now do.’

Arthur looked horribly confused. ‘The Great Dragon? The Book of Shadows?’

‘Yes, Arthur. The Book of Shadows was hidden under Camelot. Where Kilgharrah, the Great Dragon, also has a lair. So you see, there has been magic in your kingdom throughout your reign and your father’s.’

‘Merlin, do you know anything about this?’ Arthur asked him.

‘I, err . . . I . . .’

‘You do? Are you against me too?’

‘No!’

‘Arthur, will you allow magic back into Camelot? Please think carefully about your decision,’ Gwyar repeated.

‘I do not need to. There is no place for magic in Camelot. I have seen the damage it has caused. Look at my father, how magic destroyed everything he held dear. Your own sister, Gwyar, Morgana. Look what happened to her!’

‘What happened to Morgana was a direct result of what your father, and then you, Arthur, did by banishing magic from Camelot.’

‘It was not! She brought what happened to her upon herself.’

‘So you will not change your mind? That is your final word?’

‘It is.’

‘Then, Arthur Pendragon, I challenge you for the throne of Camelot.’


	28. Chapter 28

Gwyar turned to Seren and gave her the signal. Seren removed the necklace complete with its twelve beads and started to invoke the incantation. The twelve knights responded by entering the room, their swords held ready. Except they didn’t go in support of Arthur, but stood behind Gwyar and Seren in direct challenge to him.

Arthur took a step backwards in shock. There was a pause as he realised what was happening, the strained silence broken only by Gwaine arriving in the room.

‘My lord!’ he began . . . but then stopped. Seren could see the confusion on his face as he saw his two brothers and fellow knights lined up against the king, and her heart began to break. But she had to do this. No longer could her kind be treated in this way, but Arthur was not prepared to change.

‘My lord,’ he began again, speaking very slowly as he observed the other knights, trying to work out what had happened to them. ‘A spell has been cast over the castle. Everyone . . . everyone else has been frozen, they cannot move. And as for . . .’ He warily approached the twelve knights who gripped their swords more tightly. ‘Gaheris? Gareth? Percival? Percival! What . . . what are you doing?’ But Percival was in the grip of the old magic and did not respond, not even when Gwaine waved his hand directly in front of his face. ‘Sire, they too are bewitched,’ he said, turning towards Arthur. He tried again, but none of them reacted.

Arthur turned angrily on Gwyar. ‘You see! This is not what I want for Camelot! This is not their choice!’

‘I did not make this decision lightly, Arthur, but if you refuse to accept that magic is an important part of Camelot, then you leave me no choice.’

‘I will not accept this.’

‘You have no choice,’ and she raised her arm, holding the orb aloft. The knights uniformly raised their swords.

Gwaine joined Arthur and Merlin on the other side of the room, preparing to battle against his own brothers and closest friends despite the odds being so stacked against them.

‘Merlin?’ Gwyar asked. ‘You have hidden your magic from Arthur obviously far too well. It is time for you to live the life you were born to. Will you join us?’

All eyes, apart from the knights who were blindly looking straight ahead, were on Merlin.

He started to shake his head. ‘This was not what I wanted. This is not how it should be.’

‘How it should be is that Arthur accepts magic in his kingdom, not persecutes it. So join us.’

‘No. It would be a betrayal of everything I have done for Arthur so far.’

Arthur looked surprised, obviously trying to think what Merlin had done, but then Gwyar turned her attention to Gwaine.

‘You stand alongside Arthur when all the other knights are against him?’

‘They are bewitched.’

‘They will kill you. They will kill anyone on my orders, even another knight.’

‘I am not just another knight, I am King of Lothian. I will fight this magic.’

‘You will still die. But if you joined me, I would let you rule in your rightful place in Lothian while I ruled Camelot. If you would embrace magic.’

‘I am no enemy of magic,’ he began and Arthur reeled again. ‘But I would rather die defending Camelot’s king than see any regime force its rule like this,’ and he raised his sword to his shoulder in readiness for battle.

‘There are people outside the castle who want magic to be free, Arthur.’

Gwaine glanced over to Arthur, still balancing himself ready to strike. ‘It’s true my lord. That messenger was correct although did not know who they were and they appeared to pose no threat.’

Seren saw Arthur swallow hard. Gwyar had everything under control. Merlin was her main adversary, but with herself and Seren and the twelve enchanted knights, she foresaw no great resistance.

Gwyar raised the orb again ready to begin the attack, but Seren was distraught. This was not what she had thought would happen. This was not what she had wanted. Gwyar was meant to persuade Arthur to accept magic for good, not this coup. As Gwyar turned to signal the attack, Seren took a step forward. ‘Stop!’


	29. Chapter 29

 

Gwyar turned to face her. ‘Seren?’

‘Gwyar, I cannot do this. This was not the plan.’

‘This is better. We will rule together.’

‘I cannot. This is not right.’ And with determination that surprised even herself, she stepped forward and snatched the orb from Gwyar’s hand. ‘This stops now.’

‘Seren!’ Gwyar looked shocked. ‘What are you doing? We have worked so hard for this, for us.’

‘No, not for us. For you. Look. Look at what we have done. We are as bad as Uther, trying to rule this kingdom by fear.’

‘So you will rule it better alone?’ Gwyar asked sarcastically.

‘I will not rule it at all,’ and she stepped forward and held out the orb to Arthur.

‘What are you doing, Seren?’ Gwyar was looking at her with undisguised horror on her face.

‘I will not take it,’ Arthur said. ‘How can I trust it when it was formed by evil?’

‘Not evil, no, Arthur.’

‘But . . .’ and he indicated the knights who were stood behind Seren with their swords still raised.

‘Lower your swords,’ she commanded.

‘They are still enchanted,’ Arthur pointed out drily.

‘I will release them unharmed, but you must promise me that Gwyar and Merlin will not suffer. Merlin has been a good and faithful servant to you, he should not be punished. He has had nothing to do with this.’

‘And Gwyar?’

‘All I ask is that you do not harm her. Her intentions began well.’

‘And my knights?’

Seren walked over to the first knight. ‘Thank you, Sir Geraint,’ she whispered. ‘You were my first lover and so very kind and gentle. I wish you happiness.’ She reached up and kissed him, pressing his bead back into his hand. ‘Sir Elyan. You rescued this damsel in distress from the tower. Sir Kai, we made beautiful music together. Sir Bedivere, you most certainly do have a magic lance. Sir Percival, your swordplay was your foreplay. Sir Lamorak, you defended my honour. Sir Menas, well . . .’ she started with a smile. ‘You’re one for the outdoors. Sir Guiy, I think we can say we bonded. Sir Gaheris and your love of food. Sir Gareth and your love of horses. Sir Lucas, you were a very naughty knight. And finally, Sir Leon. You were probably the most surprising. But it will be our secret. My knights, I-’ but she was interrupted by Gwaine.

‘Wait! How did you enchant these knights?’

‘She made love to them,’ Gwyar spat at him. ‘A different knight at every full moon. Twelve months, twelve knights.’

‘You . . . you made love with all these knights? Even my own brothers?’ He was looking at her in disbelief.

‘For the spell to work, to create the orb, yes,’ Seren replied quietly. ‘But I shall release them from that now.’

‘But how did I not know?’

‘The enchantment erased their memories of the night.’

‘But . . .?’

‘But what, Gwaine?’ Gwyar prompted. ‘Why not you?’ He looked suitably embarrassed but did not deny it.

‘The Goddess chose them for me, Sir Gwaine,’ Seren replied. ‘It was not my choice.’

‘Otherwise . . .?’

They were staring at each other. She could see Gwaine trying to work out exactly what had happened, and why. She wanted to explain it all to him, that this had not been her choice, that this was done for magic, not for her own pleasure.

‘Seren, will you release my knights!’ Arthur interjected.

She raised the orb, muttered the words under her breath, and the knights were suddenly animated, looking around them in surprise.

‘Would you like me to destroy this, Sire?’ she asked Arthur, raising the orb towards him.

‘Seren, no!’ Gwyar shouted, reaching out to snatch it back. But Merlin’s eyes flashed amber and she was thrown backwards, landing in an untidy heap. Two of the knights quickly restrained her.

‘So it’s true?’ Arthur said slowly. ‘You really do have magic?’

Merlin nodded. ‘And used it to save your life more times than I can count.’

Arthur rubbed his forehead with his fingers. ‘I . . . this is all too much.’

‘Arthur, go and release Guinevere-’

‘Guinevere? Where is she?’

‘Locked in her chambers for safety,’ Seren replied. ‘And then talk this situation through with her. She might make you see sense.’

‘Why should Guinevere . . .? Oh! She knew?’

‘Yes, of course she knew!’

‘Was I . . . was I the only one who did NOT know?’

‘It would seem so, my lord, unless you count the kitchen cat. And even she knew.’

Seren suddenly realised that the knights were all looking at her now that their memories had returned. All except Gwaine who was scowling in the corner. He caught her looking at him and turned away from her.

It was Merlin who saw her face. He took the orb from her, put his arm around her shoulders and led her from the room. As soon as they were outside, she burst into tears. Merlin held her, and she clung to him, so many emotions released now that this was over.

‘Merlin, I’m scared.’

‘Scared? You?’ he asked with a sniff of laughter. ‘You’re the bravest person I know! Look what you did tonight.’

‘But . . . but what if Arthur doesn’t accept magic back into the kingdom?’

‘You really think he won’t, after tonight?’

‘I don’t think Gwyar helped the cause, trying to usurp his throne.’

‘But you more than made up for that.’

‘You will keep the orb safe?’

‘I will ensure it is not used for evil.’

She sighed heavily, then looked up at him. The amber glow in his eyes was more pronounced now he was no longer trying to repress it. She reached up a hand and stroked it across his cheek. ‘You’re the bravest person I know,’ she said. ‘You stayed with Arthur.’

He laughed. ‘I’m not sure whether that was brave or foolish.’

‘Merlin, stay with me tonight.’

‘Of course. Come on then, before Arthur finds me some armour to clean. Or worse, asks me to explain what’s happened tonight. Both of those can wait until tomorrow.’


	30. Chapter 30

 

It was a difficult few days with Arthur coming to terms with what had happened at Samhain, and deciding who to trust. Seren had spent time with him and Gwen and Merlin, Gwyar confined to her quarters under a spell performed jointly by Seren and Merlin and on the understanding that if she tried to escape, she would be confined to the dungeons, and if she attempted to use magic, executed for treason without delay.

Arthur took a lot of persuading both from Merlin and Seren, with Gwen’s support. The discussions went on long into each night with Merlin patiently explaining all the times he had saved Arthur’s life, and Seren explaining how she was no threat to Arthur, how she had been born with magic, how it had been a part of her since her birth, how she only wanted to use it for good. And how Merlin could help Arthur to rule Camelot.

 

The other knights had realised that they had been a party to something beyond their understanding. It was Geraint who spoke to her first, waiting until she left the king’s quarters one evening.

‘Lady Seren?’

She lowered her head. ‘My lord,’ she muttered.

He tipped up her chin with his finger and looked directly into her eyes. ‘I know what you did and why you did it.’ Seren swallowed, trying, but failing, to avoid his eyes. ‘But tell me, do you hate me now?’

‘Hate you? Why no, Sir Geraint! I was . . . very grateful to you, my lord.’

‘Grateful?’ He looked puzzled. ‘But you were forced to bewitch me so that I would make love to you for Gwyar’s power. Why should you be grateful to me?’

‘Because you were so kind to me.’

He sniffed a laugh as he lowered his hand from her face. ‘And to think, if Gwyar had had her way, I would never have remembered the night we had together.’

‘I will certainly never forget it. Thank you, my lord.’

They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment, and then he broke into a broad smile, held his arms open wide and she stepped forward into them.

‘The Goddess truly blessed me with that night,’ he said.

‘And now you are free to say that.’

‘And because of you, I am getting married again.’

Seren pulled back. ‘You are? Oh that is wonderful!’

‘She is a cousin of my late wife’s. I have known her a long time, but it was only after . . . you that I started to think of her in that way.’

‘I’m sure she will make you very happy, my Lord.’

‘I am sure she will, Seren. I wish you happiness too.’

 

Over the next few days she saw most of the other twelve knights, replacing awkwardness with understanding.

She reassured Sir Elyan that he was a caring and brave knight, much admired by his contemporaries. She knew he had fought fearlessly in the battle against King Iustig, proving his value. Sir Kai, Sir Bedivere and Sir Lamorak needed no such reassurance other than that she understood their proclivities. All were extremely grateful that she had been a part of their life, even if only for one night. Sir Leon was still a little hesitant in her company, but if she winked at him, he blushed and smiled and the awkwardness evaporated.

The one person Seren did not see was Gwaine. He had left Camelot with his brothers to return to Lothian now that he was king there. She missed him as he haunted her dreams, had done so for months, and maybe he would never understand what she had done. Merlin became her confidante, her ally and her best friend as they could now openly discuss their gift.

So she spent most of her time with Gauis and Merlin, Gaius to study the book she had given to him for safekeeping, and Merlin to discuss everything else in her life. Merlin had alluded to the nights of the full moon and whether they had damaged her. She thought carefully before she answered him.

‘Not damaged, no, Merlin. Even though I knew that I was following the bidding of the Goddess, I also felt she was protecting me. Even the order of the knights, Geraint first . . . oh.’ Seren saw the look on Merlin’s face. ‘You don’t want to know this, do you?’

‘I just want to know you are all right. I . . . care a lot about you, you know.’

‘And I care for you too, Merlin. More than I thought I ever could.’ She looked up into his blue eyes under dark straight brows and he met her gaze. There was a spark of magic in them and she returned it, an understanding passing between them.

 

It was some months before Gwaine returned to Camelot. Seren had just returned to Gaius’s new laboratory, a much larger room now that it had become the centre of magical enquiries, entering through the small doorway at the east entrance when she saw him arrive at the bottom of the steps of the west end. He hugged both Merlin and Gaius and sat at the long work bench. Seren waited in the darkness out of sight of them all.

‘Are Gareth and Gaheris with you?’ Gaius asked.

‘Only Gareth. Gaheris has stayed in Lothian.’

‘And how is being king suiting you?’

Gwaine barked out a laugh. ‘Very dull, if I’m honest. I’m sure I shall grow to love it, but Gaheris is much better at it that I am so I left him in charge. I came back to see how Arthur was faring.’

‘Only Arthur?’ Merlin ventured.

Gwaine looked at him blackly. ‘I think the Goddess spoke only too clearly about that. Even my own brothers . . . Anyway, that is in the past, is it not?’

‘You are being unfair on Seren,’ Merlin retorted. ‘It was not her choice.’

‘She could have told me.’

‘You know she could not, she was not allowed. She was a pawn in Gwyar’s game and you know it. Or was it because of the other knights?’

‘It had nothing to do with them.’

‘I don’t believe you. I think you’re just plain jealous.’

‘Jealous? Ha! The Goddess just knew that I wouldn’t fall for being bewitched so easily. That I wouldn’t be part of Gwyar’s plans. And Seren was going to let me die alongside Arthur.’

‘But she didn’t. She stopped that happening. And I don’t doubt for a moment that you remaining on Arthur’s side had something to do with that. I know she had feelings for you, Gwaine, but she was not allowed to act on them. I can’t believe you’re being so stubborn.’

‘Stubborn? Why would I want another man’s cast offs, let alone twelve. I can’t believe you’re defending her! And since when did you care so much about a girl who has to use magic to make a man sleep with her?’

‘Gwaine! That is unfair!’

There was the scraping of a chair as Merlin stood to confront Gwaine, with Gaius trying to placate them both, but Seren had heard enough and retreated from the laboratory. So that was how Gwaine saw her. She returned to her room and sobbed. It was only at the feast that Arthur laid on for Gwaine and Gareth’s return that she formally greeted him. He was polite, but distant, and her heart broke. From everything she had learned from all of the other knights, only Gwaine had taught her how to love, but he was lost to her now.

She sang that night from the heart. Mournful ballads of love and loss until Arthur had to intervene and ask for something more cheerful. She acquiesced, but could feel Gwaine’s gaze following her although he looked away every time she caught his eye. That night she turned once again for companionship from Merlin, resigning herself to the realisation that Gwaine could never truly reconcile himself with what she had done for the Goddess. He would never forgive her. She would never know if he had loved her as much as she loved him. She knew she could not have him, but she did not want him to hate her. She resigned herself to whatever the Goddess had planned for her.  

Later that night, she was sitting talking to Merlin by the fire in Gauis’s laboratory. Gaius had brought them a jug of wine, but then retired.

‘What are you going to do now?’ Merlin asked.

His face was shadowed in the firelight, his cheekbones highlighted by the flames. He seemed to have matured since the acceptance of magic in the kingdom, more dignified, standing at Arthur’s side, no longer the servant but an equal. She had not really thought of the impact it must have had on him more than anyone else.

This was why it was important that she continued to serve the Goddess.

‘Truly, Merlin, I do not know. With Gwyar, she seemed to commune with the Goddess directly. I . . . I have had no direct guidance from the Goddess, but I do know I must dedicate my life to her.’

‘You must?’

‘Yes, I . . .’

‘Has she told you how?’

‘No. But Gwyar told me that was my duty.’

‘Perhaps it is, but you can serve the Goddess in many ways. There is so much you can do for her here in Camelot.’

‘But Gwyar said-’

‘Seren, it was not necessarily in Gwyar’s interests to be totally honest with you. She no longer controls you. And the spell no longer has any power over you. You fulfilled its requirements and then released yourself from its power when you offered the orb to Arthur. Has the Goddess ever told you directly that you cannot marry, for instance?’

‘Err no, no she has not.’

‘Has she ever said that you must shut yourself away from the world?’ Seren shook her head. Merlin leaned forward towards her, the flames flickering on his face, his eyes intense. ‘Do you really think she would have set you that task, put you through everything over the last year for you to ignore that part of yourself?’ Seren was struggling to comprehend the suggestion that Merlin was making. ‘Seren, you were born to bring happiness to people. The Goddess gave you a wonderful voice and,’ he blushed, ‘and a fabulous body. Why would she want you shut away from the world when she could use you to such magical effect in the world of men?’ He was sounding more passionate than she had ever heard him. ‘Those knights up there, they would lay down their lives for you if you asked. They know what you did to free magic, to make Camelot more powerful against its enemies. More than I ever could.’

He took hold of her hands, gazing deeply into her eyes. ‘You, Seren, you have changed Camelot. It has never been a better place than this. Good magic is free for the first time in Arthur’s life because of what you did. And not only Camelot, there is the chance that this could spread over the rest of the land. How can you think the Goddess wants you to leave that behind?’

Seren’s eyes had filled with tears. ‘You really think she wants this for me?’

‘Yes,’ said Merlin firmly. ‘Otherwise she would have chosen Gwyar for the role you played, would she not? But she did not. She chose you. How did you feel about what the Goddess asked you to do?’

‘At first I was scared, but . . . but the knights were all so kind, and taught me so much about myself that I never knew.’

‘And now your magic is stronger, is it not?’

Seren nodded. ‘I am happy to serve her, but . . . but the way I felt when . . . it was a kind of magic that I could not imagining living without now. Not for the rest of my life.’

‘And you think the Goddess would want you to give that up when she is the very one who introduced you to it?’

Seren was sobbing now and Merlin took her in his arms and held her oh so closely. She felt so safe there. Merlin understood her, understood her needs and desires, understood her soul. He was right and she knew exactly where her future lay, and it was not locked in a life of solitude.


	31. Chapter 31

 

Seren checked her reflection in the glass. The soft pale material caressed her breasts, clung to her waist, skimmed her hips and then flowed to a pool around her feet, trailing behind her as she walked towards the door. Arthur was waiting for her, and she smiled up at him as he held out his arm for her to take.

‘Ready?’ he asked, unnecessarily. ‘You look beautiful, but I can’t believe how brave you are.’

She laughed. ‘It’s not me being brave, it’s him.’

‘Actually . . . yes, you’re probably right.’

They walked down the steps together, along the corridor and then entered the main hall. It had been decorated with twined branches of leaves and flowers and they passed the tables already set with platters and cutlery for the following banquet. But before that was the ceremony.

He was waiting at the head of the room, turning as he heard that she had arrived, and then smiled at her. Nothing else mattered now. She walked towards him, holding Arthur’s arm tightly for reassurance as she suddenly became very emotional. This was really happening. This was what the Goddess really wanted for her.

Her eyes drifted over the knights waiting as guards of honour. That thought brought a smile to her face. Some of these guards had most definitely not been entirely honourable, despite being under the influence of the Goddess. But those memories were of the past. This was her future. She smiled at Arthur and walked between the knights, past where her mother was sitting, to the head of the aisle. There, smiling at her, waiting for her, was Merlin, wearing his new robes of deep blue and gold.

‘Thank you, Merlin. Thank you for explaining everything.’ She couldn’t help it, she flung her arms round him and gave him the hugest hug, much to the amusement of everyone gathered there.

Embarrassed, she released him and stood looking up at him, grinning. Merlin smiled back at her and then nodded over to where someone was waiting patiently, and she lowered her head more decorously although continued to smile.

Merlin cleared his throat and began. ‘We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Lady Seren of Cambernic and,’ he paused dramatically . . . ‘and Gwaine, King of Lothian.’


	32. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Seren stretched luxuriously in his arms, stirring the man in bed next to her so that his fingers slid over her breast and he squeezed it affectionately. Her man. Her husband. Her new life. Her new home.

Now he understood. Now he accepted what she had done. Now he appreciated what she had learned and how they were building new experiences together. He pulled her towards him, smiling, and kissed her lazily, his lips already so familiar on her own. She sighed as he stroked his hand over her shoulder, down her arm, and then back up her body to cup her breast in his hand. She snuggled against him, belonging totally to him, and then smiled.

‘Again?’ she teased as she could feel his hardness against her thigh.

‘Always,’ he replied, and dragged her on top of him as she laughed. ‘And all ways.’

 


End file.
